


Landfall

by Castalle



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: M/M, Past Orm/Murk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalle/pseuds/Castalle
Summary: Pressured by the other Kingdoms, Arthur is forced to condemn his brother to the Trench for his crimes.  Orm survives, and finds himself seeking the aid of a former surface-dwelling ally.





	1. Chapter 1

At first Orm thinks maybe it won’t be so bad.

 

He and Arthur do talk. The first time is terribly uncomfortable and he’s on the defensive. No one likes being so obviously, horrendously wrong. Of course, Orm doesn’t entirely think himself in error. He can never forgive the surface dwellers for their destruction of the oceans. That will never happen.

 

But, he can at least begin taking steps accepting his place. Exactly what his new role will be in the Kingdom, he can only guess. His fate ultimately depends on several variables.

 

The first being – does the newly crowned Fisherman Queen want vengeance for her slain father? Would she attempt to pressure Arthur into punishing Orm for what was plainly an assassination disguised as self defense? The second being – would Mera make it known that Orm tried to have her killed? After all, King Nereus would demand that Orm pay for his bold faced lying.

 

With his luck, of course, it ends up being both of those things, plus one more.

 

Words briefly mentioned by Mera spreads to Vulko, which is overheard by the palace guards, which then spreads through the rank and file like a cloud of ink. Word of the surface dweller with Atlantean weapons, leading Orm’s own troops. A surface dweller in service of a King that swore justice against them all for their atrocities.

 

Compared to regicide, it seems trite, but it is that small detail that marks the loss of any public acceptance he might have held onto.

 

It cuts deep when the people turn against him. Most of all because he knows that they’re completely right.

 

He was a hypocrite. He employed a surface dweller, gave him their technology, and had ordered him to kill the newly beloved King of Atlantis. A hypocrite and a liar who had no right to any forgiveness from the people he once ruled.

 

Orm figures banishment will be his price. Banishment from all Atlantean territories, to live his life out on the open ocean, alone. After all, he had been a very successful King before Arthur appeared. Atlantis’ economy had maintained itself, borders were secure, he had been loved by the people. Atlantean laws were archaic, a King could face banishment when a Queen would face execution for a lesser crime.

 

It’s when Arthur enters Orms chambers with a look of grief and confusion over his face that Orm realizes that something far worse is in store. He and Arthur have, over the last few months, slowly become closer. It took many talks, some of them requiring their mother to be present. Orm can read Arthur’s moods – and this is one he’s never seen.

 

“Orm.” Arthur’s voice cracks as he greets him.

 

He swallows his fear, forces it down and swims over to Arthur, floating a few feet in front of him.

 

“Something’s troubling you.” He observes, brows furrowing as he examines Arthur’s face.

 

“Sorry,” Arthur glances away, then looks back at Orm uneasily. “I uh – we need to talk. There was a council, with the Fisherman Queen and King Nereus. The Brine sent an envoy too. They uh...” He trails off, uncomfortable.

 

“They…?” Orm tries to lead him on. If Arthur is going to be a proper King he needs to learn how to discuss these situations.

 

Arthur swallows and looks Orm in the face, apologetic. “All three of them, the Brine too, have made formal demands that you be punished for your...you know. Consorting with surface dwellers and sending your troops to uh – you know, Sicily, Mera and I. That stuff. Giving that pirate guy the Atlantean tech.”

 

Orm keeps a calm face, simply nodding once. Not exactly surprising news, so what’s the cause of Arthur’s distress?

 

“They’re demanding an execution. To the Trench.”

 

If this had been just a few months ago, Orm perhaps would’ve thought he stood a chance. Even the slimmest chance of survival. After all, their mother had survived. Arthur was a superior fighter on land but Orm still had a lifetime worth of experience beneath the waves, and he trusted in his own strength.

 

Now though, the Karathen rested within the Kingdom of the Trench. She had claimed it as her new home, surrounded by millions of the deep sea dwellers. Arthur had command of the Trench, and he ordered that they leave the Karathen be. It quickly grew into more than that. The creatures swarmed about her, exalting her in their massive schools. They circled around her and raced up and down along her enormous body. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of their minds, they knew she was to be honored.

 

Now, to be sacrificed to the Trench meant to face the jaws of the Karathen. Orm knew that there was no chance. This was an execution without question, without any hope or slim chance of escape.

 

He also knew that for Atlantis to maintain this brief harmony of the kingdoms, that Arthur had to make a choice that neither of them wanted.

 

Vulko and Nereus were quick to spite Orm and call him power hungry – citing his war against the surface as mere pretense to gain power over the other kingdoms. Orm would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy finally subjugating the cowardly Fishermen and moving against the unruly Brine. Still, Atlantis and the threat of the surface world and their poisons were at the heart of his concerns. Orm loved Atlantis, and to truly love something, that meant he had to put its well being before his own.

 

Orm had been prepared to die when Arthur had bested him before. He would not beg for his life, or ask for forgiveness, or show fear. He would face his death as a true Atlantean – with honor and ferocity.

 

“Then,” He began, voice restrained and tight, “Do your duty as King, and adhere to their demands. You will secure a powerful alliance that Atlantis has not had with the other Kingdoms in generations. With the Fisherman Queen and Brine King sitting at your table, Xebel at your side, you will usher in a new age for Atlantis.”

 

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just throw you to the Trench – with the Karathen down there with them. We’ve all come to the conclusion that, yes, you fucked up bad – but – but -” Arthur stammers, “What about mom? How is this fair to her?”

 

“Find me a single grain of fairness in the oceans, Arthur – because I’ve yet to see any. You must do this. Being a King means making decisions you don’t always want to make. I will serve Atlantis, be it with my life or my death.”

 

Arthur furrowed his brows, annoyed. “You’re so fucking self righteous. All this high and mighty talk, all this ‘greater good’ shit. We all agreed that there needs to be justice, but this isn’t justice. You dying doesn’t fix what’s already happened!”

 

“You’re King, Arthur, you have a duty!” Orm snapped suddenly.

 

“No, this – I can find a way around this. I’m not going to let our mother have to watch one son send another to die. If you want to be a holier-than-thou jackass about this, that’s fine. You seem to get off on that, but I can’t let this happen.”

 

“You can, and you will. Mother will understand. She knows the position you’re in. You need to be responsible to your people!” Orm seethed, turning away and swimming across his room. He stopped at the large window that oversaw the old city. Ejected from the palace, he’d been given a home in one of the old ruins that was, in truth, a very spacious prison.

 

“Just give the order, Arthur. I’m not af-”

 

“Afraid to die. I get it, okay? It’s only the fiftieth time you’ve said it today.” Arthur swam up beside him. The two stared out at the old city, the lights of Atlantis illuminating the stone ruins from a distance.

 

Arthur sighed, and Orm could tell that he was exhausted. Diplomacy is the worst part of leadership, and Arthur had little to no experience with it. He had Mera, Vulko and Atlanna to advise him, but ultimately he had to make the final decision. Only Arthur’s final word would be enough to condemn Orm to the Karathen.

 

“Mother will forgive you.” Orm said after a while, looking at a small school of fish that swam past the window. His voice hardened as he turned to face his brother. “You said you took the Crown because of necessity, not because you wanted the power. I believe that now, but you have to understand that the people need you to be strong. Atlantis does not for-”

 

“Forgive.” Arthur glared out the window, crossing his arms. Orm had never seen him this troubled, even when he was chained down in the throne room. At least there, Arthur had his ferocity and fighting spirit. This ordeal had sucked the life out of him, and now all he could do was seethe.

 

The two looked out at the ruins of the old city, floating side by side. Orm finally felt he had to break the silence, but was interrupted when Arthur turned and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. He froze. Physical affection was something he rarely engaged in, and to have it come from Arthur, of all people, only made it even more of a shock. It took Orm a few seconds of awkward silence to finally return the gesture.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better.” Arthur said sadly, voice muffled by Orm’s shoulder.

 

Orm didn’t know what to say. He’d been trained his entire life to be a competent King, not competent at dealing with his private emotions. Still, having spoken with Arthur these past few months has softened him.

 

“Me too.” He finally admitted.

 

They pulled apart, and Orm offered Arthur his arm. The two lock grasps firmly. For a brief moment Orm swelled with pride. Arthur didn’t just pity him; he respected him. Still, despite it all, Arthur still looked heartbroken. There was incredible compassion under that rugged exterior, Orm has found out. He felt great sadness for Arthur then.

 

There was no place for it when bearing the crown of Atlantis.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything after that meeting happens quickly.

 

Mera comes to see him, surprisingly. She says despite everything, including her attempted murder, she finds his choice to accept his death to be a dignified one. That is all she can give him, and it still surprises Orm that she would even offer that much.

 

His mother is next, and that is where he truly begins to hate the other kingdoms for their demand. When he demanded Arthur kill him, he’d thought his mother dead. Now she was here, weeping over him and holding him, begging him to reconsider.

 

She begs him not to doom her to a lifetime of mourning a child. She curses Atlantis and the Fishermen and the Brine, enraged at their demand. The only comfort Orm can give to her is telling her over and over that he isn’t afraid. That this is the right thing for Arthur, for Atlantis.

 

Shaking her head, she refuses every excuse and holds him like she used to when he was a child, resting her chin on the top of his head. His icy stoicism collapses and he embraces her, burying his face against her shoulder. What dignity is there in his death if it causes her this much pain? Brief second thoughts are painful flickers of hope that he has to bury quickly. He cannot allow himself to think there might be a chance. He must face his choice, even if it means tearing his mother apart.

 

“Don’t blame Arthur for this.” He says quietly. Atlanna is stroking his hair, and Orm feels the safest he’s felt since he was a child. “I convinced him to meet the demands of the other Kingdoms.”

 

“I don’t.” She responds, and pulls back to look him in the eye. Her eyes are red around the edges, face contorted in pain. “You mustn’t think for a moment I love you any less than Arthur. Orm, you are my son – my child. You both have my full love.”

 

Orm gives his best sincere smile, but in the back of his mind, he knows it isn’t true. He doesn’t hold it against her. She’d left her entire life behind to hide from Orvax. He was the fruit of a union that she never wanted.

 

That doesn’t change the shame he feels when he looks upon his mothers face. Her pain is his fault. He chose to serve the Kingdom first and do the responsible thing, at the expense of tearing her apart.

 

It takes some time but Atlanna finally accepts that he has made his choice. He doesn’t bristle at her final acceptance. She was raised among these laws and traditions, she herself a victim of them. Living on the surface world had not softened her. Her dignity and composure had been hammered in since birth, and they were simply falling in place.

 

They share one last embrace, and Atlanna rests her cheek against his forehead, stroking his face.

 

“I will accept your choice.” Her voice is wracked with pain, “But I will not attend the ceremony. I cannot watch it, Orm. Forgive me.”

 

He nodded, and they separate for the last time. She turns and swims away, refusing to look back. It’s better for her, he knows, to not look back.

 

A single night remained now before the ceremony. Tomorrow at dawn, Orm knew he would die.


	2. Chapter 2

The visit from his mother leaves him in pieces, despite his best attempts to soldier through it. He finds he can’t, and he wants to cry. As he grew older, Orm had found it difficult to cry, despite how much he longed for catharsis. Instead, he tossed his royal attire aside and dressed for bed, floating into it for the last time. The bed was a large shell that rose out of the floor, glittering anemones lining the interior. They shifted and glowed as he floated up into them, the roof of the shell keeping him from floating about the room while he slept.

 

Anemone gently swaying back and forth, Orm stared at the light they produced as it bounced across the floor beneath him. At least his last night was a comfortable one.

 

Orm is nearly asleep when he hears the door creak open. A feeling of dread rushes upon him – were they going to send him to the Trench now? He was desperately looking forward to that one last sleep.

 

Swimming out of the bed, he turns and is face to face with Murk.

 

Murk – who he thought had perished on the surface. Yet here he is, floating before him. His former top enforcer has looked better. He’s abandoned his old uniform for much more common garb. A dull brown fishskin covers him from head to toe, with cracked and broken blue shells along the left shoulder and leg.

 

The two shoot through the water until they crash against each other in a tight embrace.

 

Throughout Orm’s life, he had lived his goal of being stoic and Kingly. A King had responsibilities, and that meant being in the company of your vizier and generals for most of the day. It meant maintaining boundaries. With his betrothal to Mera, Orm had struggled to find affection for her. They’d been friends as children, but after Atlanna was sacrificed, they’d split apart. There was no love in their arranged marriage, and Orm had no warm feelings for her before or after Arthur took the crown.

 

Murk, though, he was different. Kings and Queens all had their secrets throughout the decades, and Orm was no exception.

 

Atlantean soldiers served the King, and whomever the King was could change very quickly, as Orm and Arthur had both proven. For years he’d trusted Vulko, but the creeping realization of his betrayal had been poison in a wound left open for years that would never heal. All Orm truly had was Murk. Murk had been far more than his loyal commander, he was a true friend.

 

That simple thing so many Atlanteans took for granted had been a secret that Orm had hidden and coveted. They had been secret friends as children. Murk’s father had been one of Orvax’s elite guards, and he had brought his son to the palace many times for ceremonies and gatherings. It had began as such; secret visits, laughing and telling stories as children, pretending to be ancient kings and chasing each other with training swords. They grew older, from boys to teens. Murk would test his sword skills against Orm’s trident, practicing and jeering at each other, deep in the palace gardens where no one could find them. Often Murk would best him – the Atlantean was remarkably skilled at unleashing sheer brutality upon his opponents. One wouldn’t think it, just looking at him, but Murk’s lithe frame hid the strength of a Brine.

 

When Atlanna had been sacrificed, it was Murk’s shoulder that Orm had cried upon. Orvax would not tolerate his tears, and Mera had her father to comfort her. It was only Murk who heard Orm cry out for his mother, who witnessed the wracking grief of a child bereft of their parent.

 

They grew older, into young men, and for a brief time – lovers. It was a storm of inexperienced passion and rage; anger born from knowing it was doomed. Neither of them were naive enough to think it would last forever. When Orm’s betrothal was formally announced, they both finally tore apart from each other. Their friendship had not ended, but with Murk rising through the ranks, he soon came to sit at Orm’s side as his top enforcer. By then, both had learned their places and roles, and only allowed themselves brief moments together to converse when they were alone.

 

Now, Orm had no walls to keep up. Nothing stood between him and embracing his best friend.

 

Murk slid his hand up to rest on the back of Orm’s neck, holding his head close against his neck as they floated in the room. When they parted, Murk brought his hand around to fix Orm’s hair back into place from where a few strands had strayed off.

 

“When we received no word, I feared the worst.” Orm admitted, “But – we were marching on the Brine, I needed all of-”

 

Murk shakes his head a little. “I understand.” His low, raspy voice is honest, and Orm knows that he wouldn’t lie to save face. Murk was a model Atlantean soldier, always putting victory over his own well being. A rescue party, especially to the surface, was all but unheard of.

 

Orm glances down at Murk, then notices his left hand – completely gone at the wrist. He frowns and moves to try and take Murk’s arm, but the soldier waves his hand away, shaking his head.

 

“A wound earned in honor.” He rasped.

 

“What will you do?” Orm asked.

 

Murk snorts, giving an apathetic glance off to the side. “I will live beyond the realm of the Kingdom. I lived my life to serve you. I will not call the halfbreed my King.”

 

Orm can’t help but chastise him. “The...Arthur is your King, Murk. He is the true King.” The last part pains him to say, and Murk tilts his head, noticing it in his voice.

 

Murk runs his thumb across Orm’s bottom lip, a familiar sneer gracing his face. “Not my King.”

 

Orm cracks a smile, the first one this entire time he’s been able to slip on easily. Murk pulls him close, and they kiss. It’s full of passion and hunger, like it had been back when they were young men and duty had not yet torn them apart. Orm feels like he’s back in the hidden catacombs of the palace, where they would go to hide and be together. He feels alive, the past coming back to him in great waves, crashing against the brutal shores of his impending death.

 

They wrap their bodies around each other, arms and legs intertwined. The kiss breaks, and Murk plants a smaller, softer one on Orm’s forehead. He knows that it means goodbye.

 

Floating in the room, they stayed locked together, resting their heads on each others shoulders. Orm couldn’t help but give Murk one last squeeze when he felt the other begin to pull away, and Murk strokes his back until he finally lets him go.

 

Something cold and sharp presses against Orm’s palm, and he looks down to find a knife. Its rich red and purple ombre matched the armor of the elite enforcers. Lines were cut into it, to pull in water and create an even more devastating injury if a strike landed.

 

“Swear to me you’ll fight.” Murk demands, staring him in the eye. “If you must die, then die with honor.”

 

Orm nods, holding the knife close up against his body. They move closer once more, pressing just close enough that they can feel the shared heat between their bodies. It isn’t much against the cold waters, but it’s the only warmth to be had.

 

Murk doesn’t linger. No doubt the window available to slip past the guards is a slim one. They spend a few more moments together in silence before he turns and departs. Orm knows it’s for the best. After all, prolonging these goodbyes only makes it worse for him. It makes it worse for everyone. Murk was a soldier through and through, and he would let himself grieve, but not in front of Orm on his final night alive. Orm silently thanked him for that. He had never seen Murk overcome by emotion. To see it on this night, along with his mother, would be too much to bear.

 

Orm kept the knife close up against his chest as he swam back into bed. Curling up into the anemone forest, his final goodbye said, Orm fell into an uneasy slumber..

 

* * *

 

Before the rest of the city awakens, a squadron of honor guards arrive to dress him for the execution. The knife is snatched from his hands before he can fully awaken to realize what’s going on. The guards dress him in a simple fishskin suit like his mother had worn. The scales are purple and deep magenta, brief traces of orange and yellow bouncing off of them depending on the light. The honor guards stare at him behind their crested helmets, allowing him to swim out of the room on his own.

 

Orm briefly glances over at the bed, the anemone swaying lazily. He will miss this room, he realizes. This comfortable cell that he was kept in had been witness to more emotion than the palace ever had.

 

He knew what followed next would be the hardest. Those sacrificed to the Trench were the worst of the worst, unfit for prison or labor. They were paraded through the city to be shamed before being sent off to their deaths.

 

Orm receded into himself, going deep into his own mind as he began the procession through the city. Many citizens had gathered, but it was the not the crowd he was expecting. It must’ve been earlier than he realized. In a city like Atlantis, it was impossible to tell by just glancing around. The city lay in a perpetual shadow cast by the shelf it sat beneath. Orm thought perhaps, Arthur had moved the time up without informing the citizenry. His big brother had spared him the rage of the entire city, and Orm was grateful.

 

Even so, jeers and cries of accusation shot through the water. Orm knew their rage at his hypocrisy was justified. He set his face to stoic and cold, and bid the people of Atlantis a silent farewell. Although he loved the people, Orm refused to ever let them see him bleed.

 

The procession to the edge of the city was painfully slow, and Orm felt awash with relief once they finally reached the Atlantean flagship.

 

Arthur, Mera and Vulko awaited him. Their faces were stoic and guarded. Arthur couldn’t make eye contact. Mera’s face is somber. Vulko won’t stop staring.

 

The ride to the Trench is long and silent. Orm is kept in the brig, near the back of the ship, contemplating how he can defend himself, if at all, with just his fists. It is during that time that one of the honor guards walks in, glancing about the room suspiciously, before approaching Orm’s cell.

 

Orm recognizes the guard. He can’t remember his name though, but he knows his face. The guard had been on Orm’s palace detail for a few months, and is younger than the more seasoned guards who protect the throne.

 

He hesitantly approaches the shimmering barrier wall of his cell. The guard stares back at him, apprehensive and nervous. Quickly, without a word, the guard drops the barrier wall and reaches behind his back, pulling out Murk’s knife. He offered it toward Orm, swallowing heavily.

 

He didn’t often find himself so surprised that he couldn’t find what to say. This was one of those rare moments. Orm stared at the knife, reaching out to take it. Once it was in his hand, he looked at the young honor guard and bowed his head to him. He wish he could’ve given the guard more. The simple gesture had eliminated the shame he’d felt for the knife being taken in the first place. Neither said a word, and they both maintained their places. The barrier wall was reactivated, and the guard bowed to him quickly before swimming out of the brig.

 

Orm stared down at the knife, gripping it tightly in both hands. He carefully slid it into the thin cloth gauntlet that covered his hand and forearm. Murk had chosen a good knife. The handle was flat, and hid easily beneath the gauntlet.

 

Once they arrive, Orm was brought to the center of the ships belly. There, a great sarcophagus awaited him. The literal death bed he would lay in to be dropped down into the Trench. It was shaped in an ancient depiction of the Karathen. The old depictions of her did not do her justice, but it made the sarcophagus no less threatening. In the center was the sacrificial chamber, a conch-shaped box of Atlantean steel that he would lay in. Attached to the base of the chamber was the massive body of the steel Karathen. It was depicted as a massive squid, its tentacles swirling around the edges of the chamber, flaying out in graceful arcs and curves, all of them ending in sharp prongs.

 

Orm remembered his father describing to him in detail how the sacrificial chambers worked. Once the offender was placed inside, the tentacles that decorated the sarcophagus would bend and move to lock them in place. The chamber would then simply be dropped into the Trench. As it fell, the Trench would swarm the offender and tear them apart whilst they were locked inside.

 

His mother had been able to break free and escape. If she could do it, Orm thought to himself, he could break free too, somehow. Of course, he knew, even if he escaped the Trench, the Karathen would be waiting for him just as eagerly. Orm had no intention to survive by escaping the sarcophagus. He only intended to die fighting.

 

Arthur and Mera are present, but Vulko is not. Orm didn’t spend time thinking why his old mentor chose not to show. Either guilt or indifference, grief or disgust, it didn’t matter anymore.

 

He stares at the sacrificial chamber as one of the honor guards reads out his various crimes and the judgment behind this punishment. Orm barely even hears it. His mind was flooded with memories of when he was young. He remembered it all in pure, vivid images. His mother had placed into the exact same kind of chamber. She had done her best to hide her fear, to protect him from the scars it would burn into his mind. Atlanna had remained stoic up until being placed in the sarcophagus. Orm remembered seeing the fear in her eyes, and her final words to him, comforting him – telling him to be kind.

 

Look how vastly he had failed her.

 

The honor guard pull him toward the sarcophagus, and Orm feels his heart begin to race. He couldn’t help it. Death was so close now, and this was the final act. All of his years leading Atlantis’ armies had not prepared him for the slow terror of his own death creeping closer and closer, inch by inch, second by second. He didn’t know if Arthur and Mera were watching. He didn’t care. His mind was swimming with fear now, fear that he couldn’t control. It was primal and savage, coming from a deep part of him that had no care for dignity or pretense.

 

More words, some from Mera - some from Arthur. He only hears the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. He cannot hear them. He can’t even bring himself to look at them. Death is coming and he must prepare.

 

The honor guard take his wrists and presses them against the sides of the sacrificial chamber. Once they’re in place, an awful grinding sound erupts from the sarcophagus. It sounds like stone crushing stone, like bone rubbing against bone. The tentacles of the mock-Karathen move, the metal appendages rising and sliding up along the sides of the sarcophagus. Two of them slide down the edges and wrap around his wrists, locking them firmly into place.

 

Orm can feel how tight the bonds are. It feels impossible to break free of these. How his mother did it, he can only guess. Still, he tells himself, she found the strength. He can do the same.

 

The ship began to quake and shudder, slowing to a brief halt. Orm knows that they are at the very edge of the Trench kingdom. It’s too dangerous to take the flagship any closer. He will be dropped from here, the sacrificial chamber will drag him down into the water until the Trench swarm and consume him.

 

Briefly, the lights within the belly of the ship change from blue to purple, indicating that the floor beneath him was preparing to open up.

 

It was all happening so fast. Orm felt himself wishing desperately that he’d died on the battlefield. A quick death on the field was leagues above this slow crawl. Orm swallowed, feeling blood rush into his face as he did everything he could to keep his expression stoic and cool.

 

White floor panels spun and opened like an aperture in reverse. He felt the sudden rush of cold water flood the warmer waters of the flagship, and felt his stomach drop as he began to plummet.

 

Perhaps it was instinct, or fear, or desperation, but for a brief moment Orm looked over to Arthur. Their eyes met. Orm could see the dread on Arthur’s face. Orm took in a breath to say something, arm jerking uselessly in its bond to try and reach for his brother. It was all much too late, and Orm plummeted into the vast darkness below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates normally aren't going to be this quick. I actually just wrote these two chapters as one long piece but I decided it'd be easier to manage in smaller chunks in terms of proofreading.


	3. Chapter 3

The weight of the sarcophagus dragged Orm down into the trench. Immediately, his mind began to race. What to do first? The greatest threat at hand were the Trench that were hidden within their coves. It was daylight out, and they were nocturnal creatures. The tiny bit of light that managed to reach the ocean floor was the only reason he wasn’t torn apart already.

 

He had to break out of the sacrificial chamber. Tugging, Orm knew that it would be impossible to simply pull his hands free. The tentacles of the steel Karathen were clamped down far too tight to allow for even the slightest budge.

 

The world spun as he fell, the force of his struggling causing the sarcophagus to jerk left and right. As he desperately tried to think of a way to free himself, he heard the sound he’d been dreading.

 

The distant screams of the Trench grew audible the further he fell. The last fractions of light from the waters above were gone, and now Orm found himself in darkness. His eyes adjusted, and he could begin to see the vast, pockmarked cliffs of the Kingdom. Trench emerged from rock crevices in massive waves, teeth bared and screaming. Thousands of them poured out from the walls like ink from an octopus, choking the narrow crevice space.

 

Heart racing, Orm looked up to see the waters above him be overtaken by a mass of bodies. An entire ceiling of the creatures was upon him, jaws snapping and claws reaching toward him, just inches away now as they caught up.

 

A thought struck him, and as the first Trench were closing in, Orm twisted his legs in the sacrificial chamber and tried to force himself through the water. It was awkward to try and swim at such a speed without being able to maneuver himself, but he had no other option. He pushed against the water again, the second attempt sending him crashing into the jagged cliff face.

 

The trench were upon him now, three of them latching onto his legs and beginning to bite. He screamed, their teeth digging deep into his muscle and bone. Blood blossomed out in thick plumes in the water, the Trench screeching as they caught its scent and taste.

 

Orm put all of his weight into leaning to the right, causing him and the sarcophagus to face the cliff wall. It was just inches away, and he curled his bleeding legs up against his chest. The Trench were still trying to gnaw on them, but he ignored the beasts – ignored stab after stab of searing pain tearing through him – and kicked off from the cliff.

 

He had placed every bit of desperate strength into that kick, and it sent him and the sacrificial chamber hurtling across the narrow gap of the crevice. Orm and the sarcophagus crashed violently into the opposite rock wall. A thick, hazy cloud of dirt rose from the sudden disturbance as he collided with the stone.

 

Gasping in water through his lungs, Orm could feel that something had been knocked loose in the sarcophagus. The tentacle keeping his right hand bound had just barely pried away at the base. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Orm. With a scream, he tore his arm free. Hand flying to his opposite gauntlet, Orm drew his knife and sliced through the other tentacle. The sarcophagus slid away and sank – but Orm floated free. He turned then, just in time to see the fastest of the Trench converging upon him.

 

Orm knew that swimming up was the only way out, but there was no way he could fight his way through that ceiling of teeth and claws. They were in the tens of thousands now, just moments from tearing him apart.

 

He turned and swam further down, several Trench latching their claws into his back and abdomen. He forced himself to go faster, feeling the frigid waters suddenly begin to grow warm again. As Orm neared the bottom of the Kingdom of the Trench, he could see two eyes staring at him from an ocean of blackness. Already, the Karathen’s tentacles were racing up the walls of the trench to meet him as he swam down.

 

Once his eyes adjusted, could see her, staring at him from the depths. He was barely outrunning the Trench, and they were driving him straight to her jaws. The Karathen’s glowing eyes vanished as she leaned her head back, and he could see the glint of her teeth as she spread her jaws.

 

Tentacles were rising toward him, a gaping mouth waited beneath, and a wall of Trench were catching up to him. Orm clutched the knife close to his chest, thinking of his mother – of Murk, of Vulko and Mera – of Arthur. A sudden, chilling peace washed over him as he cast them from his mind – they would still be around, alive, and carry on with their lives. He had to let them all go to completely let go of his fear. He had no time left for regrets, only one last moment to rage against the incoming darkness.

 

Screaming, Orm drew the blade and hurtled through the water toward the Karathen. He drew closer and closer, just barely scraping by the massive tentacles that tried to swat him down. The Karathen began to raise a claw, but the walls of the Trench were narrow. Her massive claw collided with the cliff face, causing a deep crack in the cliff wall.

 

The crack spread upward, breaking off enormous chunks of rock that began to sink down toward Orm. The Karathen’s claw breaking apart such a massive chunk of stone had caused vast deposits of dirt that had settled within the rocks to suddenly spread out in the water.

 

Orm saw the opportunity, and swam into the growing dirt cloud. The Trench didn’t pause in their pursuit, but it gave him a brief opportunity of surprise. Charging into the first of thousands, he dragged his knife across their rake-thin bodies, tearing fins and muscle and flesh. Even more were able to dodge him, and some latched on and began to gnaw at his torso and back.

 

Orm stabbed and thrust the knife at as many as he could – but there were just too many – and he was losing blood quickly. He forced himself to swim through them, crashing into the opposing cliff wall once more, hundreds of Trench veering off at the last moment to avoid the collision.

 

As he recovered from the impact, Orm could see an enormous tentacle heading straight toward him. The end of the tentacle loomed, just moments from crashing down upon him. Orm stayed still, leaning against the rock wall, watching – waiting – as the tentacle drew nearer. It struck the rock wall he leaned upon with such a cataclysmic force that the entire Trench shook.

 

The force from the impact hastened the collapse of the cliff wall that had already begun. Vast slabs of rock and buried sand poured down into the crevice. Their attention drawn from Orm, the Trench turned and swam away from the underwater rock slide. Enormous plumes of dirt expanded out in the water, turning it soupy and thick just above where the Karathen had struck.

 

Orm knew that waiting at the last moment to dodge the tentacle would be a risky move. It had paid off though, and he could hear the cries of the Trench grow more distant. The sounds of the rocks falling traveled through the water, and Orm knew he needed to move from his hiding spot lest he be crushed next.

 

It was a chance – the slimmest, most impossible chance – but he had to try. Orm was ready to die with honor, but every ounce of his being was screaming to live.

 

Looking up, he used the enormous plume of dirt to his advantage. With the water opaque and the rock slide keeping the Trench distracted and confused, Orm took his chance. Kicking off from a jagged rock, he vaulted himself upward, knife drawn before him. He cut through the murky waters, slicing past several Trench that had gotten separated in the mud cloud.

 

It didn’t take long for the water to grow clear as he went higher. Emerging out of the dirt cloud, Orm could see the hundreds of Trench swarming just off to his left. Their attention was on the rock slide as it collapsed down to the ocean floor. It didn’t take long for several to spot him and scream to their brethren of his escape.

 

Orm didn’t dare look back. He could hear the deafening roar of the Karathen. Her call spurred the Trench on, Orm knew they were almost upon him. Even with his slight advantage, he could only go so fast.

 

He just had to go higher, he just had to get back above the cliffs, into the open ocean. The daylight would keep them at bay. He just had to keep swimming, keep ignoring the sharp pains that shot through his legs and torso. A lifetime of physical discipline aided him greatly that day, and Orm swam higher, and higher, until finally he could see the gently rays of light that spread down through the water.

 

Whether the Trench were following him or not, Orm didn’t stop. Instead, he kept swimming until he emerged entirely out of the massive crevice. Taking a sharp turn, Orm swam up close to the surface of the water, finally allowing himself to feel relief. That feeling was soon followed by guilt, however. Guilt that he should have stayed down there and accepted his fate, and faced the Karathen. Instead he’d taken advantage of a cloud of dirt, and run like a coward.

 

Continuing to jet through the water, Orm tried to shake those thoughts from his mind. Right now he needed to find somewhere to tend to his wounds. Blood was still pouring from his legs and torso. With his adrenaline beginning to fade, Orm was beginning to feel a sudden weight upon him. The anemone bed was calling his name, and Orm would’ve given anything to just close his eyes right there and rest, even if it meant death.

 

Deep inside of him, some part refused to let that happen. Instead, he took in a long breath of fresh water and soldiered on.

 

His first priority was to get as far away from Atlantis as possible. That meant getting as far away from this current ocean as possible, and into the waters of another. He was vaguely familiar with other spots in the oceans that Atlanteans visited or frequented, but he wanted to avoid those at all costs.

 

A thought came to mind then as he floated there, still clutching the knife close against his body.

 

His surface dweller – the son of the pirate he had hired to acquire the submarine. Orm tried to recall his name, but it escaped him. Murk’s last transmission before the attack on Sicily had been that the surface dweller had rendezvoused with them underwater. Orm had asked how, and Murk simply stated that he’d shaped the Atlantean armor to his personal liking, and left it at that.

 

Orm recalled the location of where he’d given the surface dweller the armor. It was a secluded island, far away from Atlantean or Xebel colonies. The oceans there were empty, which was exactly what Orm needed. He remembered the tiny island where he’d given the human his weapons. It had been an empty beach with clean, clear waters. It was far away from everything and everyone else, and that was exactly where Orm wanted to be.

 

Sliding the knife back into his gauntlet, Orm tore through the water. Keeping up a swim at this pace for such a long trip would be exhausting, and he questioned if he would even make it. Still, better to try and reach the island than risk landing on one inhabited by surface dwellers. It was almost impossible now to find any spot this close to the surface that was safe from their influence.

 

* * *

 

Orm was a fast swimmer, but the effort had been tremendous. His bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped, and by the time he reached the island he could barely keep his eyes open. Death felt like a warm blanket now, and he was so cold. It would be just like falling asleep, he knew. To just close his eyes and let go, and never have to suffer again.

 

Despite how enticing it seemed, his body kept fighting even when Orm was ready to give in.

 

Clumsily floating toward a small reef, he found shelter within a large rock formation. Several moray eels gave hisses of protest, some snapping at him while others gnawed at his arm. They swam off, irritated, once they realized he was impervious to their teeth.

 

Orm rested there, protected from the strong current. Normally a current was nothing to an Atlantean, but Orm felt himself weakening minute by minute. Now it threatened to drag him toward the shore and force him to surface, which was the last thing he wanted. As he lay there, in the shadow of the large rock, nestled into a small cove in the bottom, Orm tried to think of what to do next.

 

He’d have to find bones and use part of his clothing to suture the worst of his wounds. There were beds of sea plants he knew he could use to help hurry along the healing process as well. So many things needed doing, and they needed doing now. As Orm tried to prioritize them one by one, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Without noticing, he’d fallen into blackness, body tucked away in the protection of the rocky outcropping.

 

* * *

 

Drifting in and out of sleep, Orm tried to find out where and when he was. He knew he’d escaped from the Trench, and he was somewhere...but his mind was like a fog. Everything was a thick mess of images and sounds that he couldn’t put back together.

 

His body ached terribly. He tried to move, and every muscle screamed in protest against him. Was he sick? Had he felt this bad when he went to sleep? In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d gone to sleep in the first place. His mind was a long blur of one moment to another.

 

Memories flashed through his mind when he closed his eyes again. His mother holding him when he was sick, a large bruise across her face. Murk and himself sharing a long stare across the throne room during a terribly dull diplomatic presentation. Asking Vulko to tell him more stories about the other kingdoms when he was still just a small boy. Mera sneaking up behind him and tagging him, the two swimming around Atlanna and laughing. Arthur standing before him on the overturned deck of an Atlantean ship, pulling the prongs of his trident away from Orm’s neck.

 

Memories gathered into a stream of consciousness that jumped from one event to another. Orm couldn’t even begin to try and slow it all down and regain control. It was all out of his hands, and if this was what death was – then perhaps it wasn’t so unpleasant after all.

 

A hand pressed against his side, and Orm was pulled out of his lucid state. An arm wrapped around his body, and he felt himself begin to rise toward the surface. His body was useless, and he could only protest in his mind. He didn’t want to die up there – anywhere but up there.

 

Strange sounds of machinery echoed through the water, but Orm couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He was so tired. The only thing keeping him semi-conscious at all was the unfamiliar arm around his torso. Soon though, he felt the warm air on his face, and his lungs began to scream for more water, lest he suffocate and die.

 

He lurched in the strangers arms, and found himself falling onto a cold metal surface. A pair of hands pulled him up to sit, leaning him forward. Orm’s body acted on its own, and with a painful heave, he purged the water from his lungs. Painful air replaced it as he drew breath, coughing violently several times.

 

Orm finally cracked open his eyes, leaning against the body that supported him. Just from a glance at the black armor, he could recognize Atlantean elements in it. It was his surface dweller. Orm wondered if he would kill him – if he would slice his throat with the Atlantean blade that Orm had given him. He didn’t have the strength to care, but he thought if there were a prize for ironic deaths, that would take first place tonight.

 

Blinking a few times, Orm strained to try and move, but his body failed him. He was already weak, and the addition of gravity had done him no favors. The surface dweller seemed to recognize this, and Orm felt himself lifted off of the ground by a pair of arms. After a few bumps against very narrow doorways and angry mutterings from the surface dweller, Orm was deposited onto an extremely narrow bed.  The covers were warm and dry against his skin – neither of which were feelings he was familiar with. Several more were pulled over him after a few seconds, and he could faintly hear a second voice from another room. There were two humans here, he realized. Body sore and energy gone, he fell asleep to the muffled sound of the two voices arguing.


	4. Chapter 4

When Orm awoke, the first thing he noticed was how terribly hungry he was. A gnawing hunger at the pit of his stomach sent pain all through his abdomen. As he began to open his eyes, a splitting headache was added into the mix. Wincing, he tried to bring a hand up to his head, but he could just barely lift his arm. A brief thought crossed his mind; How was he even still alive? He’d been bleeding so profusely from the Trench that he barely made it to the small island. It shocked him that he’d even made it through the night.

 

It took a few minutes of gathering strength and shifting, but he finally forced his arm up to push the blanket off. He realized then that he was wearing something far less slick, and very…

 

Orm realized he didn’t have a word for what this object felt like. It was a dry warmth, and he’d never experienced it before. The warmth was caused by the clothes he was wearing. The purple, scaled attire he’d worn previously had been completely removed, and replaced with loose fitting black pants and a well worn, thick sweater.

 

As he shifted, he felt a sudden stab of pain in his legs. He reached down, placing his hand carefully over his right thigh. Beneath the pants he could feel lumps, and Orm realized after a few moments of prodding that his wounds had been dressed.

 

Was his surface dweller keeping him alive for some reason? To use him for vengeance against Arthur, perhaps? Orm expected no loyalty from his surface dweller. Not now that he was dethroned.

 

Bringing his eyes up, he observed the interior of the craft he was in. It must’ve been his surface dweller’s submarine. He could see various pieces of diving equipment, tools, solar stills, and oxygen tanks secured to the walls. The submarine was tiny compared to the massive, blunt-nosed, propeller driven eyesores that Orm was used to spying on from a distance. At least it was bigger on the inside that he’d expected. He’d only seen the exterior via Murk’s comm device.

 

The thought of Murk sent a jolt through him. The knife – he’d had it in his gauntlet.

 

Groaning with effort, he tried to bring his legs around and off of the bed. They barely budged, and the mere effort caused him to be short of breath.

 

Orm grimaced. He desperately needed to get out of this bed and find the knife. A more rational voice in his head disagreed. If he couldn’t even stand, how would he even be able to defend himself?

 

“Oh my God...”

 

A voice drew him out of his thoughts. Looking over to the door on the far side of the room, he saw a man. It wasn’t his surface dweller, it was some surface dwelling stranger he wasn’t familiar with. The man wore glasses and had a frumpy look about him. Orm stared back at him, hostility oozing out of every pore.

 

Either the man didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he darted across the room and was at Orm’s side in a heartbeat.

 

“I didn’t think you’d make it!” He exclaimed, pressing a hand to Orm’s neck and checking his pulse. Orm did his best to recoil from the hand touching him, but he only managed to weakly jerk his head back. The man knelt down so he was face to face with Orm, who glared daggers at him the entire time.

 

“I’m Dr. Stephen Shin, I’m – I’ve been searching for Atlantis, for Atlanteans like you, my entire life! You don’t understand what this means to me! Meeting you here, it’s – it’s incredible, it’s – my whole career, people will finally believe me! People will finally wake up to what’s been going on!”

 

Orm seethed, rage burning inside of him at the gall this surface dweller possessed to even come near him. His arm shook as he tried to lift it and push the man away. Despite his best efforts, all he managed to do was lift his hand and give the Doctor the tiniest nudge on the shoulder. Orm was tempted to roll his eyes at how far he’d fallen. Wrath of the seven Seas indeed.

 

“What?” Dr. Shin didn’t seem to get it right away, “Oh – are you trying to communicate? Oh – gosh I bet you don’t even speak english do you? Aquaman does but, shit, you probably speak something else entirely! Uh – shoot, where’d I put my-”

 

“You’re annoying him, Shin.” Came a drawl from the doorway.

 

The Doctor paused in his frantic search for a pen to turn and face the vessels other occupant. Orm followed his gaze, looking over at the familiar face of his former operative.

 

Leaning against the doorway, the surface dweller was in a diving suit, a knife strapped to his thigh and an oxygen tank on his back. Scuba apparatus hung down around his shoulders, and he fixed Shin with a look of pure disdain.

 

“David! I uh...”

 

Orm looked back at Shin’s face as his mind caught up with the rest of them. His expression changed from one of confusion to shame over a few seconds. Looking back at Orm, he offered him a genuine, heartfelt apology and stood up, backing away.

 

In return for Shin’s honest apology, Orm promptly looked away with an expression of sheer disgust. He wasn’t going to accept a weak ‘sorry’ from some pathetic surface dwelling scientist who had invaded his space. Orm no longer wore the crown but adjusting to people just entering his personal space without permission was something that he simply wasn’t ready to accept.

 

The surface dweller – or rather, David, as Dr. Shin had called him, walked over to Orm. He maintained his distance, carrying a white net in one hand, a harpoon gun in the other.

 

“Dr. Shin and I have an agreement. You’re part of that agreement.” David gestured with the harpoon gun toward Orm, “Right now you’re useless to us. You need to tell me what you need to begin recovering.”

 

_The nerve._

 

Orm huffed, loudly snorting at both of them, indicating he had zero interest in helping them.

 

David stared down at him, offering a shrug. “That’s fine. If you don’t want to help, I can let you die in that bed. You can die hungry and thirsty, and breathing air.”

 

“What?!” Dr. Shin took a step toward David, but his protest was quickly cut short by an icy glare.

 

David turned back toward Orm and continued, “I’ll come back with food and water. If you decide you want them, then that seals your agreement to answer Dr. Shin’s questions.”

 

That seemed to give the Doctor some courage to speak, and he piped up, “I just have questions! I swear, I’m not going to hand you over to the government or, or try to sell you to a lab for testing! I just want to learn, I just need something to bring back to scientists on the surface so they can understand what I’ve known all this time!”

 

Orm found enough strength buried deep inside of him to give a monumental roll of his eyes.

 

Fine. If this was what he was reduced to. Being fed in bed by surface dwellers and prodded like a pufferfish. It all came down to the fact that he didn’t want to die. Not after surviving his escape from the Trench and the Karathen. Still, this was humiliating. Orm could tolerate many things but being embarrassed wasn’t among them.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” David responded.

 

“What do you eat?” Shin asked abruptly, unable to contain his excitement. “Do you drink salt water? Or fresh water? Can you drink both?”

 

Orm swallowed, coughing lightly before finding his voice. His throat was scratchy and sore and he was desperately thirsty, but he managed to croak out, “Fish. Any water.”

 

“Give him some water from the potable tank.” David muttered, glancing down at Shin. He turned and walked out of the room then, tightening the oxygen tank to his back and disappearing around a corner. A few seconds later, Orm heard the sound of waves, then a splash. David must’ve gone to catch his food, he realized.

 

While Shin left to get water, Orm finally felt himself relax back against the hard, uncomfortable bed. It was barely large enough to fit him on, and if he shifted even a few inches, he would’ve fallen off. The bed was less a bed and more of a simple slab of metal that stuck out from the wall. It was miserable, and Orm grimaced at the thought of having to sleep on this contraption every night. Perhaps that was why surface dwellers were so stupid and violent, he figured. If he had to sleep on a hard surface like this after a day of meetings and kingly duties, he’d become as rotten as they were.

 

Shin returned with the water, offering it to Orm. He held the canteen in front of his face, but Orm recoiled, turning his head away in disgust.

 

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Shin asked. Again – all the man had in his voice was genuine sincerity and interest. Orm knew that within that pathetic, air-breathing mind was one of their kind that truly desired to learn about him. Orm simply didn’t care.

 

Shin didn’t push his luck, much to Orm’s relief. He pulled a tool box over from the wall and set it down beside the bunk. Once there, he set the canteen on top, and backed away.

 

Orm tried to reach for it, but his hands shook terribly, fingers unwilling to maintain any kind of grip. His body felt entirely useless, and he was just barely able to nudge the top of the canteen. It was pathetic, and embarrassing. Eventually he noticed Shin in the corner, rapidly taking notes in a journal, occasionally glancing up at him. Orm realized he was being studied, like some specimen at a zoo. Disgusted, and without any other avenue to channel his anger, Orm did the only thing he could do in defiance. With an angry nudge, Orm succeeded in knocking the canteen off of the edge of the toolbox and onto the floor. Water came pouring out, and Shin quickly rushed over to snatch it up.

 

“Shit – he’s going to be angry...” Shin muttered, looking down at the large pool of water that had formed on the floor.

 

Orm and Shin met eyes, and Orm slowly smirked at him. Shin looked meek, cowed by the Atlantean’s spite and hostility. He set the half-full canteen back on the toolbox.

 

“Fine.” He said tersely, trying to find his backbone. “You want to knock it over again, then you can deal with David being mad about pools of water inside of his submarine.” Shin took his notebook and walked off, muttering something under his breath. Orm watched him go, smirk fading as he closed his eyes and relaxed.

 

He drifted in and out of a light, lucid sleep until being awoken by the sound of footsteps. David had returned, walking into the room with his wet suit unzipped down to his waist, the upper half of it hanging down and exposing his torso. He set his scuba gear off to the side, taking it apart and putting everything back in its respective place. It wasn’t until David turned and was walking back across the room that his bare foot stepped in water.

 

Orm watched as David cringed at the cold water hitting the bottom of his foot, then turned and looked down at him.

 

“Did you knock that over?” David asked, glaring at him.

 

Orm stared at him, and couldn’t stop the edge of his lip from curling up just slightly. That did not amuse David, who tossed his harpoon gun aside and snatched the canteen up. He sat down on the toolbox, just a foot of space between him and Orm now. Shoving the canteen at Orm’s face, the two glared at each other as a thin stream of water made its way down Orm’s chin.

 

“Drink. The water.” David demanded.

 

Orm sneered at him, and the canteen was shoved roughly against his face in response. The two locked eyes, glaring death at each other as Orm grudgingly took a few sips.

 

The moment the water hit his system, he began to feel astoundingly better than he had been. It was as if the fog had lifted out of his head. Orm began to raise a shaky, trembling arm up to the canteen to try and tilt it back, but David did it for him. The canteen emptied far too soon than Orm would’ve liked, but he knew he only had himself to blame for that.

 

David stood and left for a brief moment, then returned with the net he’d brought with him earlier. Inside was a Grouper, and a small one too, compared to the monstrous size they normally grew too. This one was the length of Orm’s entire arm, with a thick, spotted body and short fins. Blood from the harpoon wound dripped onto the floor, but David ignored it. He set the Grouper down on the tool box, in front of Orm, and sighed.

 

“...How do you want this?” He finally asked. He sounded unsure, which was understandable. Orm figured that David was now the second of only two people on the surface who’d ever prepared food for a native Atlantean.

 

Orm’s stomach pains flared as he was suddenly reminded of just how hungry he was. The water had parched his thirst, and Orm managed to utter a few words.

 

“Fine like this.” He wheezed, trying to reach for the fish. Even as his palm met the slick scales of the Grouper, he struggled to bring it closer up against the bed.

 

It was only after several sad attempts at trying to scoot the Grouper and toolbox closer that David finally intervened. He shoved them both to Orm’s bedside with a swift push from his foot, and sat down beside them. Pulling out the knife that had been strapped to his leg, David carved off a thick cut of flesh. Once he had sliced it into smaller pieces, he set them down beside Orm’s pillow.

 

Orm stared at the pieces of fish, anger and shame resurfacing inside of him. Was this what he had been reduced to? Letting a surface dweller cut his food for him because he was too weak to even feed himself? He had been the very king of Atlantis! He glared at the white cuts of fish as if they’d flung insults, and withdrew back into the sheets.

 

David didn’t notice until he had cut up almost half of the fillet he’d carved out. Orm watched as his expression turned to one of brief confusion then to quick nnoyance.

 

“You can feel sorry for yourself later. Eat the fish. Recover. Then you can clean the water off my floor, _your highness_.”

 

David’s cruel grin riled Orm up enough to begin shakily bringing pieces of fish up to his mouth. If nothing else, he was going to recover and regain his strength and dump a fresh canteen of water on the floor just to spite him. As Orm ate however, he calmed, and began to feel better. Atlanteans were tough stock, and he would recover rapidly if he was well fed. He had never had to recover out of the ocean though, and having to physically drink water was something he found to be terribly cumbersome.

 

Orm continued to eat, his hand shaking less as time went on. Beside him, David sat on the floor, his knees brought up to his chest as he rested his arms on them. Orm couldn’t tell what the human was thinking or feeling. Was he bored? Was he making sure Orm ate all of the fish he’d gone to the trouble to catch? Was he expecting him to magically recover and get to cleaning his floor the instant he was done eating? Orm couldn’t guess, and David kept silent, the two seated side by side, both lost in their respective thoughts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge enormous thank you to everyone's support and kind words so far. They really mean a lot to me, even if I don't reply to them, I really cherish that you guys enjoy this.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Orm another full day of sleeping, nibbling on bits of fish, and drinking water before he was finally able to regain his strength. It wasn’t his normal strength, that would take much longer to return, but it was enough to get him out of bed.

 

He had slept so much that when he finally awoke and found he could no longer get back to sleep, he knew his body needed to get up. The timing was unfortunate though, as both Shin and David had yet to awaken.

 

Stepping carefully across the cold metal floor, Orm found them both in what he could only guess was the largest room in the ship. It seemed to have originally been a room meant for planning or navigating, but David had retrofitted it into a workshop. Orm spotted pieces of Atlantean armor that had not yet been used, all stacked neatly in a corner. Other tools were all secured within racks along the walls. Orm recognized several computers also – he had seen more than his share wash up in a trash gyre. These were smaller ones, the kind that folded down into slim black squares. There were several of them, all with different labels that Orm didn’t bother to read.

 

Asleep in a sleeping bag in one corner was Shin. He had some of his own clothes pulled beneath his head to act as a pillow, and shifted uneasily every couple of seconds. Orm could tell the man was uncomfortable.

 

_Good_.

 

Across the room, in the other corner, David was laying against a large black duffel bag. He slept on his back, arms crossed lightly over his torso, seeming perfectly comfortable. Still, despite the perceived vulnerability, Orm was wary. He had trusted the surface dweller with killing Arthur because he genuinely believed David was capable of achieving that feat. Capable meant experienced, and he could guess that David wasn’t expecting him to stay in bed forever.

 

Orm walked past them both silently, approaching a round door on the ceiling. A collapsible ladder was folded up against the metal surface, adjacent to the top hatch.

 

Orm felt a desperate pull to return to the water. It was his home, and being out of it simply felt wrong. Years ago when they were children, Mera had dared him to surface once, just to see what it would be like. He’d refused, citing that he was a proud Atlantean and would never stoop to such frivolities as breathing air. It had nothing to do with that fact that he may have been a tiny bit scared.

 

It didn’t take Orm long to figure out how to lower the ladder, which locked into place as soon as he’d pulled it all the way down. Climbing up, he turned the wheel to the hatch several times until warm air poured in from outside. Lifting the hatch open with one arm was nothing for an Atlantean, even a weakened one. Pushing it aside with ease, Orm emerged out onto the deck of the submarine.

 

Right away he recognized the small island, just a few yards from where the submarine was floating. The vessel seemed to be anchored, or else possessed some kind of propulsion that kept it from being pulled out to sea. Orm had a basic understanding of how surface-dweller aquatic machines worked, but this one was nothing like he’d seen before.

 

Carefully easing himself down on the smooth, black hull of the submarine, Orm took in a long, deep breath of air. The familiar water weight that would fill his chest was gone, and instead just the dry, empty feeling of air expanded in his lungs. It made him feel hollow inside. How had his mother stomached being out of the water for so long?

 

Orm raised his eyes upward, staring up at the vast, glittering night sky. For a brief moment he was pulled away from his thoughts and could only stare in awe. He’d never seen stars before – not once had he had the chance to actually experience them with his own eyes. Factories vomiting toxins, pollution choking the sea life and whale slaughter. All of his observations of surface dwellers had been focused on their crimes - he'd never stopped to take the time and look around. This was entirely different. Things were so clear, so endlessly vast and open.

 

As he stared, his train of thought slowly returned, and he thought of his mother again. Had she enjoyed life on the surface world? Even as a child, he had been able to tell that she was never happy. She loved him, he knew that much, but a rotten seed had planted itself deep down inside of him and it was beginning to resurface. The seed had taken root when she’d returned, and those roots had spread deeper and deeper the more he got to know her.

 

Arthur was the child she had wanted. Orm on the other hand, was the child that had been forced upon her. He was the very thing she had fled to the surface world to avoid.

 

She had never said that, and in fact had reminded Orm again and again that she adored him. He didn’t doubt that she loved him. It wasn’t her lack of love that had triggered the avalanche that was tumbling out of control inside of him now. Rather, it was thinking back on his childhood, thinking of how scared and frightened she must have been – how desperately she must have wanted to get away from Orvax. Her life inside the palace was a daily torment.

 

A sinking feeling spread out in his stomach, and Orm felt that he wanted to vomit. Even with all their talks after their reunification, after all of her reinforcement that she adored him, that she loved him – for the first time, Orm felt shame. Shame that no doubt every time his mother looked at him, she was reminded of the torment and cruelty of Orvax.

 

He felt as if he were burning – as if he’d plunged into the magma chamber beneath the ring of fire and every inch of him was set alight. He wanted to be swallowed by the sea and swim down to the furthest depths, find a rock to hide under, and never come out. He wanted to vanish, even more than he already had, and never see or speak to anyone who’d ever known him ever again. Was she better off without him? Was she better off without him there to remind her, every day, of what she had been forced to endure?

 

The rattle of the ladder drew his attention. Turning around, Orm watched as David emerged from the sub, dressed in a wetsuit.

 

“Thinking of swimming off?” The man asked as he pulled a pair of goggles down to hang around his neck.

 

“Considering it.” Orm muttered back, glaring at him.

 

To Orm’s surprise, David seemed somewhat apathetic. “You could. I’m not interested in what Shin wants. All I want is Aquaman. I will find him in due time, with or without the Doctor’s help.”

 

“You really think you could find Atlantis?” Orm can’t help but sneer at the thought.

 

David answers back with blunt confidence. “I know I could; but I don’t need to find Atlantis to find Aquaman. All it would take is the right bait to draw him out of hiding. I’m not interested in your people or your culture. I want Aquaman dead.”

 

The cold determination in David’s voice tells Orm that this isn’t a man that is going to be dissuaded. No matter how hilariously outmatched he was, the surface-dweller seemed to have no intention of letting the astronomically bad odds against him change his mind. Orm found that he could respect that. It was no contest in who the clear winner was – Arthur controlled the Karathen, the Trench, the oceans themselves were at his command. David was just one man filled with pain and rage. Orm had no doubt that he would die in his pursuit of vengeance. Perhaps David even knew he would die in such a hopeless endeavor, but if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

 

Orm had no doubt that Arthur would kill the surface-dweller eventually. Still, David’s mind was as sharp as his blades. No doubt he’d be able to find other avenues for revenge. He might hurt him, find other ways to cause him pain perhaps, but he would never kill Arthur. Of course, that didn’t stop Orm from staying out of David’s way either. If Arthur really had slain David’s father as the man claimed, then he was entitled to his revenge. Orm may have been forced to leave his home behind, but revenge was an Atlantean tradition that stayed with him far beyond the borders of his homeland. The Ring of Fire was a testament to the spectacle that it provided to the people. It had staged many battles before Orm and Arthur crossed tridents there, and the crowds had a constant thirst for brutality.

 

“Your determination is admirable.” Orm admitted as he slowly pushed himself to stand. “Even so, you must realize that this is not a fight you can win. He commands every ounce of life within the oceans. You’re just a man.”

 

David was glaring at him, but Orm could tell that the man was fully aware of his situation. The two of them stood a few feet apart, silent for a long time before David finally stretched his arms.

 

“I am.” He admitted, “It doesn’t matter. Even if he kills me in the end, until that day, I will spend every waking moment ensuring he feels every bit of pain that I feel.”

 

“You have a life.” Orm responded, crossing his arms loosely. “You’re a scavenger, aren’t you? A pirate? You aren’t confined to land. You don’t answer to anyone. I have heard of the miserable tedium of most surface-dwelling lives. If you can call what they experience a ‘life’ at all. I’m at a loss to understand why you choose to focus your time on vengeance that you know you will never attain.”

 

Real, genuine pain passes across David’s face for the briefest of moments. It is consumed by anger soon after, David’s brow furrowing.

 

“Without my father, there is no life.” David admits after some uncomfortable glancing to the side. “I was raised by him - trained by him. My father gave me this life and it’s all I’ve ever wanted. He gave me all of the knowledge and skills that I have, and he saved my ass more times than I can remember. I lived to make him proud. I did everything I did because it was what I knew he needed me to be, and I was damn good at it. Nothing else mattered.” David is seething by the time he goes quiet, and Orm can almost feel the anger and hatred pouring off of him in waves.

 

It seemed they had something in common then. Both were raised to be the best at one very particular role with little else to fill their lives but achieving that singular goal. Now, it seemed they found themselves adrift. Orm without his crown or his kingdom, without the very home he had devoted his life to keeping safe. David without his father to direct or guide him, without the only friendly face he had ever known. Without his parent, the surface dweller seemed hopelessly lost. Grasping at vengeance was the only thing he could think to do, Orm guessed. Had the man ever even known another life? Had he ever known anything other than what he’d been raised to be?

 

“I won’t try and stop your quest for vengeance.” Orm said finally, “As for the ‘agreement’ as you so crudely put it, I will help this Doctor find a crashed Atlantean vessel. He will never see Atlantis. Once I have lead him to the ship, which I feel is a satisfactory donation for his scientific impulsion, I will leave.”

 

David seemed to be appraising him in turn now; anger simmering down into a cool, relaxed demeanor now that the conversation had shifted. It was all a matter of weighing inconveniences for David, Orm knew. At the end of the day, the human was best equipped and used to working in a team, but he was just as determined to enact his revenge entirely on his own. Shin’s knowledge would be a convenience, not a necessity. Orm leading him to Atlantean wreckage that he could salvage for his suit would be a convenience, but currently not a necessity.

 

Orm had seen the black armor in the work station, hung up on the wall next to several wetsuits. The catastrophic damage had been repaired, but it had required David to use one of the precious few remaining pieces of Atlantean armor he had left. How many more repairs could David get with what he had? How long until he had to find new Atlantean steel?

 

Those questions and more must’ve been circling around in David’s mind. Orm could see him weighing his options, and knew that ultimately, the easiest way for David to get what he wanted was to cooperate with Shin. For now.

 

“Will there be materials on the vessel you find? Like the armor you gave me before?” David asked.

 

“Perhaps.” Orm wasn’t going to lie and say ‘yes’. He honestly didn’t know what these old, lost vessels contained. They were few and far between, and all well hidden from any surface-dwelling eyes.

 

“Do your part then.” David responded, then turned and walked along the deck of the submarine toward the water. The man pulled his goggles on and slid in, pushing off from the boat and beginning to swim.

 

Orm watched him do laps to the shore and back. He hadn’t seen many surface dwellers swim, and it looked like a sad affair. Orm couldn’t necessarily judge properly whether or not David was a good swimmer in surface-dweller terms, but he managed to go back and forth in gentle ocean water without drowning. An Atlantean infant could do the same thing so Orm wasn’t really setting the bar too high on his expectations.

 

He considered going back down into the submarine, but elected to stay and wait until David was done. Sitting down, Orm lay back and stared skyward. Perhaps, he thought, once he was done with David and Shin, he would return to the surface now and then to see the skies. The stars couldn’t match the beauty of a bioluminescent anemone forests or the living works of art created by Atlantean architects, but they had a unique spectacle that was all their own.

 

One could only see so far ahead of them when they were underwater, but up here, it felt strange to Orm that he could see well beyond where even the land and air ended, and the great void of space began.

 

David swam for nearly an hour, climbing back onto the sub once the sun began to rise in the distance. Orm followed him down below deck, where Shin was awake as well and preparing himself breakfast.

 

‘Breakfast’ consisted of one of the many MREs that David had stored within a floor compartment. When the Doctor saw the two men approach, he perked up slightly, but Orm simply ignored him and walked past to retrieve the remaining Grouper that was laid out by the bed.

 

Orm brought the fish, which had one side already carved off and eaten, to the work table where Shin and David were standing at. The Doctor seemed to be mixing some kind of dark brown powder into a cold glass of water, while David was opening up a small black journal and flipping to a page.

 

Shin seemed to understand, much to Orm’s relief, that this was not a good time to ask the Atlantean any questions. Even though Orm could silence him with a glare, he didn’t want to have to expend the energy into a glare right now.

 

As David began to write in the log, and as Shin went about opening the various food packets within the MRE, Orm began to tear apart the Grouper. With some of his strength back, Orm didn’t need bite-sized pieces, and he brought at entire strip of scaled, raw fish to his mouth and began to tear. Bones, fins, organs and all went down his throat, all passing through harmlessly. Bones and their fragments would all be crushed and dissolved harmlessly in his toughened body. Atlanteans rarely prepared food the way humans did, all in separate bits with different shapes and colors. Royal cuisine consisted of two stages – find a fish, which naturally lead to the second step – eat the fish. Food was an afterthought to most Atlanteans.

 

It was several minutes before Orm noticed both Shin and David staring at him from across the work table. Shin seemed caught between fascinated and disgusted. David seemed stuck somewhere between disgusted and impressed.

 

Orm paused, staring at them, mouth shut tightly over the most recent piece of fish he’d torn off with his teeth. The three were locked in a long, uncomfortable silence that grew increasingly heavy until David finally cleared his throat and went back to his notebook. That seemed to bring Shin out of his stupor, and he quickly put his full attention back to his own meal.

 

Snorting softly, Orm continued to eat until there wasn’t a single bit of the grouper left. He’d consumed the entire fish, bones and all, and was finally free from his hunger pains.

 

Turning toward the Doctor then, Orm stared him down from across the work table.

 

“I have agreed to answer your questions, Doctor, and I will lead you to Atlantean wreckage.” Orm said firmly, “You will not be lead to Atlantis, nor will I divulge its location. Either you take what knowledge I have to offer you here and now, or I will simply leave, and you can have nothing. I do not care either way what you discover from this wreckage, but I will not put Atlantis itself in harms way to divulge your curiosities, Doctor.”

 

Shin seemed utterly taken aback by being addressed so frankly by Orm, and all the man could do was give the tiniest of nods. After all, without David in his suit, it wasn’t like either of them could stop Orm from simply leaving.

 

“Good.” Orm looked over at David. “Where are my clothes?”

 

“Folded up, at the food of the bunk.” He answered, jerking his head lightly to the left. “They were torn when I found you.”

 

“They’ll do.” Orm muttered, and walked away from the work table.

 

Finding his fishskin suit, Orm tossed the surface-dweller clothes away and pulled on the familiar smooth, slick material that had been tailored just for his body. In truth the suits had some biological properties, and if Orm returned to the water, the tears would begin to self-repair. It would take a few hours of immersion, but Orm doubted he would ever find a material in the surface world to match it.

 

As he straightened everything out, a shade of purple and red caught Orm’s eye and he turned down to look where his suit had been folded. Murk’s knife lay there, left entirely alone, just simply having been out of sight. A wave of relief washed over him and Orm stooped down and picked it up, grasping the hilt tightly and holding it close to his chest. It was as if he’d found a part of himself that had gone astray. He slid the knife into his gauntlet, the hilt sticking out beneath his elbow. He didn’t particularly care if David or Shin saw him with the knife – it wasn’t as if he couldn’t just have easily killed either of them before with brute Atlantean strength alone.

 

He felt much more comfortable now, much more like himself. Walking back to the work table, he cleared his throat to draw the others attention, and spoke.

 

“Give me a map and I will direct you where to go. I know of several wreck sites that were abandoned. I will lead you to one of them, and you can take whatever you please.” Orm said, glancing at Shin with no shortage of contempt. “There will be enough in one of these to prove yourself to others. However, make no mistake...” Orm took a step forward, closing the gap between himself and Shin.

 

The Doctor swallowed, but stood his ground, despite clearly being intimidated as Orm leered down at him. “If any harm comes to Atlantis, either by your direct or indirect action, nothing can stop the power that my brother commands. The wave I sent was but a fraction of the power he now has at his control. You need to ask yourself, Doctor, is discovering Atlantis worth risking another war?”

 

Dr. Shin summoned his courage to respond, “So far Aquaman has done nothing but help people on the surface. He’s saved countless lives, why would he wage a war because of scientific pursuit?”

 

“Before, he was simply doing as he saw fit, because he had the freedom and no responsibility. Now he is burdened by the crown and all that it entails. Do you think I chose to leave Atlantis? There is a king, but there are many other factors and players in this game, Doctor. Not all of them will cooperate in complete uniformity if a surface-vessel trespasses onto their territory. You need to consider just what you’re risking by all of this. I assure you, there are horrors you cannot even fathom, waiting at the bottom of the sea. Horrors that will rise up and slaughter every man, woman and child should they be provoked.”

 

Orm paused, licking his lips as he leaned back to give Shin some much needed space. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you?”

 

The Doctor seems at a loss for words, which is exactly what Orm wanted. If he’s lucky, all it’ll take is a bit more pushing and threatening, and perhaps Shin will come to understand that his selfishness isn’t worth the potential risk of Atlantis being found. Orm knew he may have come off as a bit harsh and perhaps embellished a bit of the details, but it wasn’t as if Shin would be any the wiser.

 

Briefly, Orm glanced to his left. David had been watching them, and briefly the two locked eyes. David gave him a knowing stare, and Orm let out the quietest of breaths. Clearly what Orm had told Shin with the intention of horrifying him had not been nearly as effective on David.

 

Gathering a folded map from a box in the corner, David walked over to Orm and spread it out over the work table. It was strange to Orm, to see the oceans as just one big chunky region of blue instead of the multiple kingdoms and territories he’d come to recognize. For surface dwellers the ocean was just the ocean. There was Atlantic and Pacific, but that seemed to be where it ended for them in terms of detail.

 

It took him a moment to switch around his thinking to get used to the backwards map, but once he did, he pointed to a spot on the far left.

 

“There.” Orm commanded. “Once we get closer, I can guide you myself. I assume traveling that far within this submarine will take some time?”

 

“A few days.” David responded, folding the map back up. He turned and walked toward a small set of doors that were marked around the edges with red and yellow tape. Turning the wheel to the hatch open, David stepped inside of the cockpit, which had room enough for two. Red glass made up the main window, with several other panels above and below the control console to give an unobstructed ocean view.

 

Orm’s curiosity was piqued, and he followed David inside, looking up and down at the red glass as sunlight poured into it.

 

At the front was a vast array of control switches and a pair of binnacle controls. As David flipped various switches along the ceiling and helm, the lights in the submarine went dark. From behind him, Orm could hear the sound of Shin climbing up the ladder and sealing the top hatch shut. With everything secure, David climbed into the captains chair and began to switch on what Orm could only assume were the propulsion engines.

 

The submarine shuddered, a sudden loud, unpleasant tone sounding out through the vessel. Orm realized then that it was a warning that the submarine was diving. He watched through the crimson windows of the cockpit as the ship sank beneath the waves.

 

All of the lights within the submarine shut off as they dove, save for the red control panel and long strips of red light placed on the floor to help guide someone in or out.

 

Now, all three of them were in the dark as the submarine shot through the waters, and Orm found it a cruel irony that he was beneath the waves and yet still forced to breathe air. He eventually noticed that Shin was hovering a few feet away, taking down more notes – perhaps even sketching, which made Orm suddenly very self conscious.

 

Orm didn’t ask David permission, he simply climbed into the other seat and sat. The other man glanced over at him, annoyed, but seemed willing to tolerate him.

 

“Don’t touch anything.” David muttered as he turned his attention back to the controls.

 

Orm obliged, sinking down further into the seat and staring up through the glass canopy. Schools of fish swam above them as they dove further beneath the water, and Orm desperately wished he could be out there among them. Yet, somehow, he felt safe here too, in this red box of glass. Orm didn’t have a rock to hide under, but this small, dark room wrapped him in deep shadows and silence. He decided he could compromise right now, and felt himself relax back into the seat.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for your support and kind words. It brings me no shortage of happiness that yall are enjoying this


	6. Chapter 6

Orm gave Shin a rough shove, sending him stumbling across the submarine. The man had been next to in line to climb out on deck, but Orm had taken his spot. After a week of being stuck in an enclosed space, forced to breathe in the stink of the sweating human men he was accompanying, Orm could stand it no longer. He simply had to get out.

 

They had arrived at their destination before sunrise. Above deck, David was holding a small flashlight up to a laminated map, examining it carefully. Orm didn’t pay him any mind, diving straight into the dark water that surrounded the sub.

 

Being submerged in cool, fresh saltwater was pure ecstasy. The water filled his lungs, letting them expand and contract with their full strength. His skin felt rejuvenated; all the filth and grime he’d picked up from being in the dry realm washed clean. He wondered how his mother had dealt with it all during her time on the surface. How Mera had dealt with it during her time with Arthur.

 

_Who cares?_ A bitter voice asked from inside his head. _You’re dead to them. All that matters is right now._

 

_Right now_ was making Orm consider leaving the two surface dwellers and their submarine and simply vanishing into the depths. It was tempting, no doubt – but, Orm had made an agreement. He’d tolerate the time it took to lead them to the Atlantean derelict. He kept his word. At this point it was almost all he had left.

 

Very few research vessels had been sent out on exploratory missions to try and find knowledge about what lay far beyond Atlantis. The open ocean was not so much a threat as it was a simple non-issue. Of course they cared about its safety and health, of course every Atlantean saw the entire ocean as their great home – but there was just so few reasons to leave the realm of the Kingdoms.

 

In addition, the risk of accidentally giving Humans the knowledge of their existence was a genuine threat. It was a serious taboo to be frivolous and foolhardy with oneself and swim out and explore the open seas and leave the safety of the hidden Kingdoms. Orm and his royal entourage did it on rare occasions to glimpse the great trash gyres and oil spills. He’d left to watch humans spear families of gentle whales and drag their bleeding bodies onto ships. Orm had forced himself to view the atrocities of mankind firsthand – he had felt responsible to bear witness to the centuries of pain brought on by their hands. If he was to rule fairly and just, he needed to also see the unfair and the unjust.

 

His brother was sympathetic to the surface. No matter how much their mother had insisted that Arthur was a symbol to bring the two worlds of land and sea together – all Orm could see was a proxy for the surface world.

 

He had tried his best to see and think otherwise. More time had passed though, and while Orm did indeed feel he had come to terms with Arthur as a person – he did not know if he could ever come to terms with Arthur as a king.

 

Orm let himself float for a while longer in the dark water as he mulled over these thoughts. He eventually felt the urge to distract himself. Unfortunately the only way that would happen would be to surface and interact with the others again.

 

As he prepared to ascend, Orm stopped short when he saw a form dive into the water a few yards above him. The figure in black was unrecognizable for a brief moment until a pair of bulbous red eyes flickered on. Orm realized that he was seeing David’s armor firsthand. It was creative, Orm had to give him that. Using the plasma lenses in the helmet took away the burden of the massive rifle. Still, Orm had to wonder how many helmets David had gone through trying to work out the mechanics of it all.

 

Small jets on his legs and back sent David further down into the depths. The water carried his modified voice clearly, and Orm couldn’t help but grin at the theatricality of it all.

 

“Show me where the ship is.” David ordered.

 

Orm turned his nose up slightly, glaring at him.

 

“Once you have what you need, I am leaving. Is that understood?” Orm asked as he began to swim slowly.

 

“I don’t care what you do after I have what I came for.”

 

Orm turned ahead, satisfied with David’s answer.

 

Together the two went deeper, Orm keeping his swimming slow so that David could keep up. Even with his gear, the man could never dare to match Orm’s top swimming speed.

 

The water around them quickly grew dark, and Orm could feel a sudden pull as a massive drop-off came into view. He wondered if David could see it too – the great trench beneath them where the sea floor slid away.

 

A thought came to Orm, and he turned around, hovering in the water.

 

“Your armor – the lining beneath it. You can handle this pressure?”

 

David nodded. “High-tech sub wasn’t the only thing we nabbed.”

 

“What do surface dwellers call this place?” Orm asked, turning to look down at the vast blackness before them. Atlanteans didn’t have a name for this specific site, just the general region as a whole. This area was one of the furthest and least explored.

 

“This is the Peru-Chile Trench.” David responded. “We’re closer to Peru right now though. It’s a country on the mainland.”

 

Orm searched the area carefully. His eyes adjusted as he squinted, the ambient red light from David’s helmet aiding him as his vision cut through the darkness. The reports he’d been given about the missing vessel had specifically mentioned their last transmission. It had mentioned a trench, as well as earthquake activity along the sea floor. Nothing unexpected or unusual, except for when they failed to ever send another report.

 

“Hold still.” David ordered.

 

Orm frowned, turning around with a response prepared. He didn’t speak, watching David release a small, blinking beacon into the water. The little black object was made of slick, shiny plastic, and was shaped like the Manta Ray that David seemed to so admire. At least the surface dweller had some taste.

 

A little red diode at the head of the tiny ‘Manta’ blinked as it floated further down. Orm watched it with mild interest, and stayed put as David had asked. Nearly thirty seconds passed in complete silence. Orm wondered if this was just a trick that David was playing to make him look like a fool.

 

“There’s something metal, further down into the trench. About five hundred feet from our location.” David said finally. He swam down and retrieved the little blinking manta, pressing it back into a compartment on his gauntlet.

 

Orm couldn’t help himself. “Was your childhood bed Manta shaped too?” He asked, smirking as he began to swim down into the trench.

 

David turned to look at him, silent. Orm could almost feel the anger oozing out of the surface dweller as he jetted past Orm and swam further down. No doubt he’d be in a bad mood for the rest of the dive. He couldn’t help himself though. David was so easy to anger, and Orm had very few pleasures left in his life save for the petty annoyances he could cause the nearest surface dweller.

 

Catching up easily, Orm stayed a few inches behind the other so he could match his occasional turns and course corrections.

 

“It’s close.” David finally said as he slowed. He pressed something on his wrist, and the eyes of his helmet grew even brighter.

 

Both swam closer to the wall of the trench. It was a massive, jagged sheet of rock that stretched from above their heads and plummeted down into the depths that lay beneath them.

 

Staring at the walls of the trench, Orm suddenly felt a terrible stabbing pain inside of him. It was a visceral, unwanted memory of what had happened just less than two weeks prior. He hadn’t even thought about it until now, hadn’t even considered that the memory might come back to haunt him. He was a soldier, he’d led his men into battle against The Brine, and had personally faced down a legion of Trench. Why this sudden fear?

 

As Orm stared at the massive wall of rock and let his thoughts race back to that day, his hand moved his elbow. He felt the hilt of the knife that Murk had given him, still secure beneath his gauntlet. Murk would tell him to be brave, and let old fears die. Terrors from the past were best left dead to rot. It was only what lay ahead of him that mattered.

 

Mustering himself, Orm kept his arms crossed a bit longer, the familiar shape of the blade against his arm giving him a small comfort.

 

David’s voice split him out of his thoughts, and he quickly swam over at the call.

 

Illuminated by the red lights of Davids gear, Orm could clearly make out the familiar shape of an Atlantean explorer craft.

 

Resembling the long body of a great Tuna, the exploration vessel was made of thick Atlantean steel. Its various fins were all separate pieces, each able to move on their own. If the vehicle had been activated, it would’ve been lit up from end to end in magnificent oranges and blues. Instead, it lay dead and silent, all color gone save for the rich crimson reflected off its surface.

 

Orm frowned, suspicion immediately entering his mind. He swam closer to the vessel, finding the emergency door hatch and pulling it out. With the hatch risen, the entire right side of the Tuna’s head dislodged, revealing the cockpit within. Orm felt a tightening of his stomach as he observed two Atlantean corpses that were strapped to their seats. Most of their flesh had long been pecked clean by bottom feeders, but some billowing pieces of thin skin remained hanging off their bones.

 

Reaching across the lap of the nearest corpse, Orm released the safety belt and carefully pulled the body out of the cockpit.

 

Orm had no responsibility to these people anymore, he was no longer their king, but he still felt a terrible pang of guilt strike him deep.

 

David swam in to look closer at the corpse. Orm could see the subtle tilts of his helmet as the man examined the body. No doubt the same question was on both their minds – what had killed this Atlantean while they sat in their own cockpit?

 

Gently wedging the corpse between one of the stationary fins and the main body of the vessel, Orm swam in to sit in the copilot’s chair. Atlantean technology was hardy, but it wasn’t the technology that Orm was concerned about.

 

Reaching down and activating several switches, the ship slowly began to hum back to life. Blue and orange lights lit up the intricate dashboard display, holographic projections of the surrounding topography appearing out of the glass cockpit screen. Orm had no doubt that once David brought the ship to the surface that Shin would try and learn the computer system. He made a mental note to destroy the entire array before David could have his prized scrap.

 

Finding his query, Orm brought up the most recent log entry from the ships Captain.

 

The map faded from the screen, and in its place, the image of a haggard, exhausted Atlantean woman took its place. She mirrored the position of her own corpse, which floated next to Orm in the cockpit seat. On the screen, the copilot was slumped over in his chair, clearly already dead. An enormous gash ran straight down from his collar bone to his hip, splitting the mans torso wide open.

 

The captain fiddled with the recorder in a panic before calming herself, eyes shut tightly as she finally spoke.

 

“...This is Captain Yuvo of the exploratory vessel _Naviva_. The cave exploration proved to be a fatal mistake.” She cast a despairing look at her slumped over first mate, “We weren’t expecting to find creatures like this so far from the Trench – they attacked us on sight. Auray was recording...” Captain Yuvo winced, grimacing in pain.

 

“Some kind of poisonous secretion from their mouths – I was bitten on the upper arm...” Captain Yuvo struggled to remain conscious, slapping herself across the face a few times to frantically stay awake. “...Captain Yuvo of the exploratory vessel _Naviva_ , final entry...we...sent a message to Atlantis regarding seismic activity and...” Her eyes shut a little and she leaned forward. Yuvo’s words became slurred, and she opened her eyes again, glancing around the cockpit in confusion.

 

Orm frowned, skipping through the remainder of the recording. All there was to see was Captain Yuvo’s life slowly ebbing away as she sat in her seat, lips slightly parted, eyes half shut. The corpse of her first mate floated beside her, blood staining the water around him until finally there was nothing left to bleed out. The recording lasted for another hour, but Orm skipped until the end, where the device had shut off automatically. At that point in the recording, Yuvo was floating limp in her seat. Either the poison had killed her, or she had entered a sleep and never awoken.

 

“What attacked them?” David asked, helmet turning back and forth as he examined the interior of the ship.

 

Orm was lost in his own thoughts for some time until he finally turned and merely shrugged.

 

“Not the Trench.”

 

“The Trench?” David asked.

 

Orm paused and removed Captain Yuvo’s safety harness, easing her skeletal corpse out of the cockpit.

 

“Creatures from some of the deepest parts of the sea. Nothing you’d care to run into.” He paused then, turning to David. “Arthur commands them. An entire army of ravenous creatures – millions strong – each one at his beck and call.”

 

David gave no reaction, but Orm hadn’t expected too much of one to begin with. Orm knew that the fury of the Trench was nothing to a man who – he rightly suspected – didn’t care about his life as much as he cared about his vengeance.

 

“You can have the entirety of the ships body.” Orm said as he gently took the First Mate’s corpse from its spot against the hull. “First I must remove the ships systems. I know you have no plans to find Atlantis; my concerns rest with Dr.Shin’s intentions.”

 

“I know. Hurry up so I can leave.”

 

“I need to give these two a proper burial first.”

 

Orm heard a strange grating sound come out of the helmet, then realized that it was the sound of a sigh.

 

“How long is that going to take?” David’s voice was ripe with irritability.

 

“As long as it takes, and you’ll wait!” Orm snapped back in response. “I’ve lead you this far, you can wait a few more minutes.”

 

David said nothing, his snort barely muffled inside of his helmet. Chin held high and his expression tight, Orm stared the man down until David finally turned and swam back to the exploration vessel.

 

Satisfied, Orm took the two bodies further down into the trench. A traditional burial couldn’t be done, there would need to be actual graves dug into the side of the wall, but Orm was willing to improvise.

 

Orm dislodged a large rock and floated it over. Tearing away what scraps remained of the first mates uniform, Orm carefully tethered the two together. Cutting away some of Captain Yuvo’s clothing, he secured the rock between the two, and let it weigh them down. Releasing them, he watched the pair sink into further darkness. It was a sad, underwhelming burial – and they deserved more. Orm wished he could give it to them.

 

As he swam back to the vessel, he saw David waiting, and swam a little slower – just to spite him.

 

Dismantling the navigational array wasn’t a difficult chore if one knew how to operate an Atlantean vessel. Orm tore away a panel beneath the main console and stripped it of its glowing, iridescent circuitry. Without these vital circuits, the entire ship was useless. He’d taken a moment to brandish his knife and cut the power cables as well. With a groan, the ships brilliant, dazzling colors faded away, and it sat lifeless and dull in the dark waters once more.

 

Orm let the circuitry and parts sink beneath them. David cast the technology a brief glance, but Orm saw him lose interest quickly. It was the Atlantean steel that he was after at the end of the day. He’d done just as well with his own human technology, and seemed content to use it in tandem with what Orm had given him.

 

Once Orm had removed all of the parts he deemed necessary, he swam away from the vessel. David ejected a small harpoon dart from his wrist gauntlet with a wire attached to the end. He wrapped the small dart around one of the ships fins, and activated the small turbines on his armor. Ascending, David towed the ship behind him, slowly tracing along the walls of the trench.

 

Orm was quick to follow him, swimming behind the man as they neared the waters surface. Once they breached, Orm spared a few more seconds to help David haul the the Atlantean craft to his submarine, letting it float off the side.

 

The sun had risen, and Orm felt the unfamiliar warmth of its rays on his skin. He crawled onto the surface of the submarine, purging water from his nose and mouth, the momentary pain causing him to stagger.

 

David climbed on after him, eagerly heading back into the submarine to fetch equipment. He hadn’t been enthusiastic about anything until now. True, he’d only known David face to face for a little over a week, but the man was normally a deep well of stoicism.

 

Shin followed David back out of the boat, taking out a notebook and frantically beginning to sketch the Atlantean vessel. Orm hadn’t caught full wind of what had happened, but he’d heard Shin mutter something about his phone and camera. It wasn’t long until David returned afterward, burdened with tools and rope. He laid them all out neatly on deck, diving back into the water and swimming around the ship to begin his dismantling.

 

Orm heard Shin protest, shouting to David that he needed to at least see inside before David started cutting it apart. His voice grew into an echo in the back of Orms mind as he sat on the other edge of the submarine.

 

What had killed those Atlanteans? Whatever had split First Mate Auray’s torso from top to bottom didn’t leave Orm with many options. It was a nagging question that he needed answered. A part of the ocean, so far from Atlantis, had a secret within it. One that, as far as he knew, had never been discovered or mentioned before. Perhaps in myths, but none that he’d ever been taught as a child. He hand to find out what was down there – and unlike Captain Yuvo and First Mate Auray – he was prepared for hostilities.

 

Standing, Orm glanced back at David. The man had paused in his work upon noticing Orm’s movement. Several cutting tools lay useless and broken on the deck of the submarine, and David had resorted to lowering the power on his helmet beams to make tiny, narrow rays of plasma that cut through the Atlantean steel.

 

“You’re leaving?” Shin asked, breaking the silence.

 

Orm looked back at Shin, annoyed that the surface-dweller still had the nerve to even dare to speak to him.

 

“This was our arrangement. You have your ship.”

 

Shin looked back at the vessel, which David was picking apart for his own means. The fact that David hadn’t even let the Doctor go inside or look at the interior wasn’t Orms problem. He’d held up his end of the deal, and now something much more dire was pulling him back to the water.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Davids inquiry surprised Orm. He hadn’t been expecting more than a second glance from the surface dweller. To his surprise, the two bulbous, red eyes were staring at him from across the submarine. David hadn’t surfaced, so the two eyes were simply bobbing just above the surface. It would be almost comical if Orm didn’t know the raw power behind them.

 

Orm paused at first, but finally answered. “Back down. I want to know what happened to Captain Yuvo.”

 

Without another word, Orm dove into the ocean. He plunged back down, finally able to swim on his own terms. Speeding down into the abyss, Orm stretched his arms and felt alive once more. The pressure was nothing, he barely felt the radical changes as he plummeted deeper and deeper.

 

It wasn’t long until he returned to the spot they had found the exploration vessel. Orm recognized the rock formations, even in the pitch blackness of the deep waters. His eyes glowed faintly as they took in every last bit of light they could.

 

Orm hovered there in the water for a while, trying to figure out where Captain Yuvo had found this cave entrance mentioned in her final log. His first instinct was to search further down. Still, it puzzled him. He was already at a depth that very few creatures could survive in. What other than the Trench could have inflicted such a dire wound?

 

He decided to swim down further, following the flat, rocky wall for several minutes. Unable to find any sort of cave entrance, he began to return to the ship.

 

As he returned, he saw David’s glowing red eyes in the darkness. They leered at him in the pitch blackness of the depths, illuminating his armor. Orm swam up to him, halting a few feet away.

 

“You weren’t invited.” He said bluntly.

 

His pride was always at the forefront – but deep down, he knew that it was foolish to go looking for danger alone. Having David’s combat abilities, even if he was terribly inferior to an Atlantean, would be a benefit.

 

“I don’t need to be.” David rasped back.

 

Glancing down, David watched his small probe float in the water. The two floated still and waited for its scan to complete. Once done, David plucked the device from the water and set it back on his armor.

 

“There’s a topographical anomaly...” David turned his back to Orm, pointing in the other direction. “Five hundred feet.”

 

Orm huffed, expression tight as he swam past David. He noticed soon after that the man was following him, jets propelling him through the water to keep up with Orm’s pace. He didn’t bother to turn around or stop, but felt that he had to at least make an inquiry.

 

“What are you after down here? The ship wasn’t enough?”

 

David turned his head slightly, casting Orm in an intense red aura.

 

“There could be more.”

 

“More ships?”

 

“More _anything_. I want to know what’s down there.”

 

Orm scoffed, slowing as they reached their destination. In the blackness, he could see the strange cave opening. It struck him to silence – not because of its size – which was massive. Rather, it was a complete, perfect circle. The cave entrance was not natural, it had been carved by hand or by machine. Orm couldn’t guess which. Strange Glyphs were etched into a thick stone that bordered the entryway. They looked Atlantean at first – but something about them had changed. Certain shapes bent where they shouldn’t. Marks and lines ran through where they were not meant to be, and others had pieces missing. It was as if someone had taken his entire language, broken it up into smaller pieces, and then rearranged them into symbols that made no sense.

 

The two stared at the massive, gaping cave mouth for nearly a minute in complete silence. Orm could see David moving in the corner of his eye, pressing something on his wrist gauntlet, pressing a switch in the back of his helmet, adjusting various pieces of armor.

 

“I can leave, _your Highness_.” David taunted. Orm could hear the grin on his face through the helmet.

 

Without the dignity of a response, Orm merely stuck his nose up a little and began to swim into the cave. He heard David chuckle quietly, but soon the man had caught up to swim beside him.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The water grew colder as Orm and David swam deeper into the tunnel. Glyphs along the smooth stone wall lit their way, illuminating the water in gentle blue light. As they swam further, smaller passageways began to appear, branching off from the main corridor. At least twice now Orm had heard a crackling sound, but could not yet determine its cause. His best guess was the glyphs, which were unlike any he’d seen used in current or ancient Atlantean technology. Still, he couldn’t be certain of anything.

 

He turned to David as they passed one of the smaller branching corridors. The man had glanced down the passage at the exact same time Orm had heard a fresh new crackling sound.

 

“Closer than before.” David observed. There was no point in him trying to be quiet. The water carried sound far better than open air, and he had no way to turn his voice amplifier down to a whisper.

 

Orm drew his knife, just to be safe. David brandished his own sword in response, glancing at Orm as the other swam toward the smaller tunnel. Orm didn’t expect David to take the lead for him, but he was pleasantly surprised when the other swam to catch up rather than lag behind in case of danger.

 

As they neared the tunnel, Orm squinted, eyes glowing slightly as they strained to catch even the briefest sign of movement. No glyphs were inside the passage to light their way, and it became pitch black within minutes. The waters were still and motionless, but he kept his guard up all the same. He counted the seconds, listening for another crackling sound, but heard nothing.

 

Thirty seconds stretched past in silence, and Orm began to lower his knife, eager to get back to the main tunnel.

 

A sudden flash of light blinded him, and he vainly brought his arms up to shield his face. David’s hand grabbed his arm, jets shooting them across the tunnel and up against the curved wall. Orm felt the water around them crackle with electricity, and he lowered his arms once his eyes had begun to recover.

 

Blinking away white spots that swam in his vision, Orm could see a massive Eel that was turning around in the water. Its purple skin was lined with phosphorescent streaks, a rainbow of colors pulsating down the marks every few seconds. The Eel must’ve been thirty feet long at least, with a body as thick as a Great White. Most prominent though was the large pair of horns that shot forth from each brow. Five feet long, the horns glowed white in the water, bio-luminescent from the inside out. Their ends were jagged and sharp, and it became painfully obvious what had befallen poor First Mate Auray.

 

The Eel’s horns lit up once more, and Orm had to look away. His eyes couldn’t keep adjusting from utterly blinding light to pitch blackness. He could hear the water shift around the Eel as it began to propel itself forward for another attack.

 

Orm prepared to launch himself, using the crackling sound that rang out from its horns as a guide – but he was beaten to the punch.

 

The water around him suddenly turned boiling hot and he swam a few feet away, wincing in discomfort. Bubbles rose up from David’s helmet as a plasma beam shot out and cooked the Eel before it had a chance to strike again, blasting it in two.

 

“I got it.” David said, no doubt smirking as he turned to glance back at Orm.

 

Orm snorted, swimming past him and slipping his knife back into his gauntlet.

 

Taking the head of the Eel, he began to carefully examine it. It resembled a Moray Eel in its head and mouth structure, but the horns and phosphorescent skin were completely foreign. He had never seen a pair of horns on an Eel, let alone a thirty foot Eel that could easily swallow a man.

 

“Some kind of Atlantean mutant?” David asked, swimming over and prodding at the tail with a knife.

 

Orm scoffed at the implication. “No. We would never manipulate a species in such a manner. I’m not sure what this abomination is.”

 

“I’m taking the head.”

 

Orm grimaced, looking at its slack, open jaws. Rows of teeth glittered as they reflected the light from David’s helmet. He remembered Captain Yuvo, who had died a slow, catatonic death from being bitten by this creature. If David wanted to have the murderous beast he could keep it.

 

“Why?” Orm ventured, floating the head over to David.

 

“Because I want it.”

 

“Are you going to mount it on your wall?”

 

“Sell it.”

 

_Typical_.

 

Orm rolled his eyes, swimming past him.

 

“The teeth are venomous.”

 

“To Atlanteans.” David countered.

 

“Are you going to test it out on yourself?” Orm asked as they swam back into the main tunnel.

 

“There are plenty of other pirates out there, pestering cargo ships and oil freighters. If I can extract the venom, I’ll take it for a test.”

 

“Attacking your fellow pirates?” Orm glanced at David as they swam on, “They’re your own kind. Wouldn’t you rather make more allies than fresh enemies?”

 

“They’re not enemies. They’re target practice.” David chuckled in response, and the two swam further down the vast tunnel.

 

As time went on, the tunnel began to turn upward. It went from purely horizontal to entirely vertical after a gradual slope. Orm found himself swimming upward now, David beside him. The man hadn’t resorted to using his jets yet to keep up with Orm – who was doing the human a courtesy by swimming so painfully slow. Still, Orm knew it was best to proceed with caution.

 

As they swam further up the tunnel, the glyphs began to fade, leaving them once more in utter blackness. Ascending in the darkness, the crackling echoed through the tunnel once more, and both men drew their weapons.

 

Orm cast his eyes down, one arm brought up across his brows as he prepared himself for another blinding assault. The water beside him heated up as David charged his helmet.

 

A thick, slippery body pressed against Orm’s back, and he turned around to try and strike out with his knife. The rush of water could be felt, but Orm couldn’t see the Eel itself. Still, he knew it was there. He could feel the disturbances of the water and hear the crackling of its horns.

 

His attention fixed on trying to find the Eel that had brushed up against him, Orm’s concentration was suddenly interrupted by a pained snarl from David. Turning, he saw the man suddenly being dragged back down the tunnel, the jaw of another Eel firmly around his ankle. As it swam down, Orm could see color rippling along its skin, camouflaging it from his vision except for small flashing shifts as it undulated through the darkness.

 

As he prepared to swim after it, the faint sound of crackling behind him warned that another attack was incoming. Shielding his eyes, he propelled himself toward the sound before the ambushing Eel could strike. Water was sucked into the lines carved into the knife blade, causing them to glow.

 

Launching himself through the water, Orm was too fast for the Eel to react in time. The sound of its horns were all he needed to hone in, and a single strike from the fully charged blade sent the Eel reeling back. Its camouflage failing from the shock, the Eel’s skin became a panicked display of bright colors. Orm pulled more water into the knife, and struck again. Still recovering from the previous attack, the Eel died quickly from a quick, precise cut beneath its jaw.

 

Orm backed away as blood filled the water. The benefit of David’s plasma beams were the instant cauterization. Now, the water around the Eel grew filthy with blood and venom from a burst venom sac.

 

Swimming down, Orm looked for any sign of David. It wasn’t long before a pair of glowing eyes greeted him, approaching fast. David had activated the propulsion on his suit, gliding through the water with ease. Two Eel heads trailed behind him now. The pirate had hooked them both onto short wires that were attached to his belt, and now towed his prizes behind him.

 

“You look like a fool.” Orm remarked as David swam up to him.

 

At first the man didn’t respond, but his helmet turned up slightly, spotting the Eel Orm had slain.

 

“You killed one _all by yourself_.” David responded.

 

Normally Orm would’ve bristled at the condescending tone. Now he knew it was simply the rapport they shared. They were not friends by any stretch, but thus far Orm had found him tolerable.

 

“It didn’t puncture your suit?”

 

Orm squinted as he looked down at David’s ankle. There were small dents in the armor from where the Eel had bitten down, but David’s ankles and feet were completely covered in the Atlantean armor.

 

“No...” David responded, pausing afterward as he floated, arms awkwardly at his side. Orm had come to recognize this pause in his movements. He was examining some kind of information in his helmet. The man’s attention turned completely inward and he appeared oblivious to the world around him.

 

“The pressure is much lower than before. We’re close to the surface.” David said finally.

 

Orm looked back up the tunnel, trying to see any sign of a light at the supposed end of their ascent. More darkness was all he could see, but he didn’t doubt David’s technology. It had kept the man alive through all this, there was no reason this far along in their journey for Orm to start casting doubts on it.

 

The two began to swim upward once more, both keeping their weapons drawn, listening for the crackling of any more Eels. They reached the end of the tunnel without any further confrontations. Around them, the waters were still and silent.

 

Orm could hear the gentle sloshing of water up against the stone edge of the tunnel, which meant the surface was just above them. His hand emerged from the water, grasping onto the stone lip of the tunnel entrance. Hauling himself out of the water, Orm turned his head, purging his lungs, before continuing.

 

David burst out of the water and landed with a rough thud beside him, bending at the knees to absorb the impact. Orm shot him an annoyed glance before focusing on their new surroundings.

 

The two men now stood in a massive cavern. From wall to wall, it spanned nearly a quarter mile. The roof of the cavern was seventy feet high, swallowed whole by shadows. A single source of light came from the center of the room. An altar made of carved stone stood amid the otherwise featureless flat rock surfaces. It measured three feet high, with reliefs carved into it, depicting stylized representations of the Eels they’d slain to gain access.

 

At the center of the altar was a bowl carved out of white, milky stone. Orm had never seen a rock like it before, and it grew so thin near the top that it almost became transparent. A soft, gentle light spread out from the bowl, reminding Orm of moonlight.

 

After a brief scan of the room and the floor ahead of them, Orm walked forward, sheathing his knife and approaching the altar. David was close behind him, putting his sword away and turning his head to get a full view of his surroundings.

 

“What is this?” David finally asked.

 

Orm had been staring at the moonstone bowl, and it took him a few moments to realize he’d been spoken to. Turning to David, all he could do was give a slight shrug.

 

“I have my suspicion it may be one of the former Kingdoms of Atlantis.” He murmured quietly. “Their alphabet may have changed over time, but the glyphs down in the tunnel have clear Atlantean roots.”

 

“Former?”

 

Orm briefly wondered if it was wise to inform David on Atlantis’ inner workings – but he relented. After all, the man was after Aquaman, not Atlantis. The target of his rage was a single being and not a country.

 

“At first there were seven Kingdoms. Now there are six. The seventh was lost, it vanished.”

 

“How does an entire kingdom ‘vanish’?” David asked, voice heavy in skepticism.

 

“How and why are the subject of myth and lore. They existed during the founding of Atlantis, but the records of when and how they vanished are vague at best and misleading at worst.”

 

“Looks South American.” David rasped at he walked around the altar, examining the reliefs.

 

“Not Incan though, which is what we’re closest to. This has Aztec influences, but we’re not even close to where...”

 

Orm stared at David, the man raising his helmet and looking back at Orm. He couldn’t hide his amusement, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Well learned in the artworks of ancient surface-dwelling cultures. Not something I was expecting of a pirate for hire.”

 

“We weren’t always stealing high-tech submarines.” David snorted. “Artwork is a status symbol of the elite. Sometimes they put that artwork on their yachts. Dad made sure we both knew what we were looking at so we wouldn’t look like idiots when we tried to sell it. That was some of the easiest profit we ever made, but that was a long time ago.”

 

Orm tilted his head in a small display of acquiescence.

 

“Can you rattle off about any artwork that’s placed in front of you?”

 

David shook his head, his helmet just barely turning left and right.

 

“Statues, vases, ceramics, that kind of stuff. Paintings, no. I could never get the details down about the different time periods.” He paused, then added, “They were all ugly to me.”

 

“Do you appreciate the artwork of your people?” Orm asked, turning his gaze back to the moonstone bowl.

 

It took David a while to respond. At first Orm thought perhaps he didn’t want to answer at all, that he found the question entirely pointless. Then, he spoke, and Orm watched David circle the altar as he listened.

 

“Books.” Was David’s terse answer, the word coming out shaky before a brief pause, “I’d rather read than look at art, but I don’t think writing is considered ‘art’...at least by people who sell art.”

 

Orm looked the suit David wore up and down. Even if he had only meant it as a measure to match his wet suit, David’s all black and red appearance spoke for itself. Orm had been well taught in the ancient and modern artwork of Atlantis, and he could spot someone with a flair for the theatrical when he saw it. He wondered if David could recognize it in himself, or if it all was just pure second nature to him. David was an austere, utilitarian man. To be labeled as even mildly ostentatious would be an insult, so Orm kept his mouth shut.

 

“Art, I find, is nothing more than a muddied pool of subjectivity.” Orm murmured.

 

He carefully brought a hand up to the moonstone bowl, running his fingers gently up along the rim until they reached the transparent edge. He jolted, a sudden sharp pain in his fingers causing him to recoil.

 

A thick drop of blood pooled on his finger where he’d cut it. The transparent rim of the moonstone bowl hid a sinister edge.

 

“They must’ve carved it like that on purpose.” David observed, “Why make a bowl that cuts you unless you’re wanting someone to be cut?”

 

Orm was thinking similarly. Of course, they could be wrong, but Orm had a feeling that the quality of his blood was about to be tested.

 

“If I’m wrong, I will have ruined a bowl.” Orm muttered.

 

Bringing his hand over the bowl, Orm squeezed, and watched as a single drop of blood fell into the pristine milky whiteness of the moonstone.

 

Both he and David edged forward to look down at the droplet. The bowl began to shimmer, glittering with a staggering display of opalescent colors. The two men stepped back as a pillar of light rose from the bowl, illuminating the entire room in a soft, white glow. Shooting to the ceiling, the pillar of light caused a cascade of symbols and glyphs to appear on the cavern roof.

 

Navigational arrays, charts and maps – all ones that Orm recognized as being ancient and now altogether unused, had been brought to life above them. The symbols and patterns reached across to the walls, and streamed down, touching the floor. In a mere matter of seconds the dark room had become a spectacle of lights, the maps and charts beginning to spin, turning gently across their stone surfaces.

 

The sound of rock rubbing against rock drew Orm and David’s attention. To their right, across the massive chamber, a tall, thin door appeared. A piece of the wall had lifted itself away to reveal a passage, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, but thin enough that only one person could fit through at a time.

 

Drawn to it, Orm turned away from the bowl and walked toward the doorway. There was no light visible within. Even with his superior eyesight, it was impossible to see what lay beyond the thick wall of shadows. He took a step forward, the narrow doorway nearly touching his shoulders. Pausing though, he stopped, and stepped back.

 

“Why hesitate?” David asked, having followed close behind him.

 

“...I don’t know.” Orm answered honestly.

 

In truth, he felt like an invader. This kingdom – no doubt the Lost Kingdom, was hidden away, left, for tens of thousands of years, undisturbed. Now he, an unworthy King, the great failure of Atlantis, had found his way into this sacred hall. The Lost Kingdom had not wanted to be found, and here he was, intruding upon a sacred, hidden sight. Was he spoiling this untouched world? Was it meant to be found at all? The moonstone bowl made him think that it indeed had been waiting for someone to activate it. Someone of royal blood. But what did royal blood mean now? A half-breed sat on the Throne of the greatest Kingdom in the seas, and Orm’s right to his bloodline had been shattered.

 

The Eels came to mind as well. No doubt set there, eternal, bound to the tunnels, to ensure trespassers would never breach this sacred site. They’d fought their way through, and found the chamber behind them for their efforts.

 

Orm paused.

 

The Eels were no doubt a deterrent, but one he had vanquished. If the moonstone bowl was not to be used, it would have been hidden. Perhaps it was a test. A test of his might to conquer the Eels, then a test of his blood to activate the chamber. Doubt still gnawed at him though. David had slain two of the Eels on his own, and he’d only killed one. Was he really worthy to stand there?

 

“They’ve opened their front door for you and you’re standing there like an idiot.”

 

David’s voice interrupted his train of thought, and Orm glanced back at him. The surface dweller did not skirt around his meanings or let his decisions waver. He dealt with his choices, for good or bad, with equal ferocity. Orm envied that plainness of thought. That iron will that drove David to simply act, not without thought, but without hesitation once his choice had been made.

 

Orm had been that way too once. It had cost him everything, and he was a shadow of the King who’d once been the pride of the seven seas.

 

He gave David a small nod. The man was right. He couldn’t simply keep standing in the doorway.

 

With a deep, silent breath, Orm faced the narrow passage and the darkness before him, and stepped through.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the route this is going is that this is kind of a dark parallel to Arthur's own journey from the movie, but not with the exact same kind of character arcs and such, but some elements are intentionally meant to be mirrored.


	8. Chapter 8

The narrow passageway went on far longer than Orm had expected. Darkness flooded his vision, and he could only trust sure footing and his hand against the stone wall to guide him. Even with Atlantean eyes, all he could see was utter nothingness. David was directly behind him, following close. Orm had turned to look back and seen David’s helmet, aglow in the dark, but light from it was simply swallowed up. A thick blanket of darkness would not permit their passage to be lit, and they’d both merely accepted it and continued on.

 

“Can’t you see anything?” Orm asked, feeling the smooth stone against his hand as he guided himself forward.

 

“Nothing. The scanners in the helmet aren’t working. I can’t even see you – but I can hear you.” David paused, and Orm could hear the scrape of his armored hand against the stone as he lead himself along. “I’m guessing you don’t know what this is all about either.”

 

“I can’t fathom how this darkness swallows the light from your helmet. I am as lost as you are.”

 

The two said nothing further, continuing on ahead. Orm was far too stubborn to turn back now that he’d crossed the threshold, and by now he knew David was as well.

 

Finally, after what David had stated to be a half hour of walking utterly blind, a shaft of light appeared in the distance. Despite the sight, neither began to hurry. Both were too wary to allow himself to rush forward without checking for dangers. The shaft of light spread wider and wider as they grew closer, and Orm finally stepped out of the narrow darkness and into a bright chamber. He stepped aside as David followed, both taking in the scene that lay before them.

 

The chamber was not terribly large, especially when compared to the previous room with the moonstone bowl. It was roughly fifty feet long and half as wide. However what stood out to Orm first was the intricate stonework that covered the chamber from top to bottom. The entire room, floor to ceiling and every inch of wall in between had been carved. Deft hands had chiseled stone away bit by bit until the whole chamber told a story. Only a narrow tile path ran through the center of the room to be walked upon. Even still, the tiles themselves were carved in the most delicate of fashions.

 

Six statues lined the long walls of the room. Three on the left, and three on the right. Each statue was nearly identical, each one dressed in a high-collared robe and enormous headpiece. A thick band of fabric sat beneath their breasts, from beneath it a large gown that cascaded to the floor. Colossal headdresses covered the faces of the maidens, enormous discs depicting six phases of the moon laid over their eyes and brows. Even without the large headdresses, Orm could see even from a slight distance that the maidens would have been taller than him or David.

 

Directly opposite of Orm, at the other end of the chamber, was a seventh statue. This one neared ten feet tall, depicting a nude woman with her arms outstretched and her face turned skyward. One hand held a silver disc. The disc was small, and sat in her palm completely untarnished, with a light that filled the room all on its own. The other hand held a trident, but it was unlike anything Orm had ever seen before.

 

Rather than three tines pointing upward, the trident had a single spear tip that rose between two crescent blades. The crescents made the trident a deadly sweeping and cutting weapon, but would have rendered it utterly useless if thrown.

 

“Some sort of shrine?” David asked.

 

Orm could only shake his head. “I don’t know.” He whispered, “I’ve never seen anything like this. I can see traces of original Atlantean sculpture, but so much of this art is unfamiliar. It’s a completely different culture than what I grew up around.” As Orm finished speaking, the room began to hum. Orm threw a glance to David, and both men quickly drew their blades. They stepped back, pressing close together as they watched for any sign of an attacker or some kind of trap. Orm didn’t know what to expect, and all he could do was listen as the air in the room began reverberate.

 

The strange sound grew louder and louder – bouncing off of the walls of the room until it became like a pulse. It was a heartbeat that ran through the entire chamber, flooding out of every centimeter of carved rock. Orm winced, blood pounding in his ears as he brought his hands up to cover them. In the corner of his eye, he saw David fall to his knees, the man desperately attempting to remove his helmet. Orm knelt down to help him, feeling around the base of the helmet to try and find a way to get it off.

 

David’s right hand was fumbling near the back of his helmet, just where the neck armor ended. Orm reached down, pushing the other man’s struggling hand aside and felt a small button. It took more force than he expected to press it, but once he did, David’s helmet released a hiss of air and the neck segments loosened to fall down to the side. Orm carefully helped David pull the headgear off, but dropped it soon afterward, the intense echo of the room becoming too hard for him to continue to bear.

 

Orm could see a trickle of blood running down from David’s nose, and felt his own face to check if he suffered from the same affliction. He felt no blood, and wondered if David’s human body was more vulnerable to the sound than his Atlantean one.

 

Suddenly, a terrible pain split down from the top of his skull, as if a giant spike was being driven through the center of his brain. Orm could feel a presence – a stranger – within his his own being. As if something or someone had invaded his entire self, unwanted and uninvited. He wrestled with how to handle this new sensation on top of the terrible assault of sound waves, but as quickly as the pain had begun, it ended.

 

The room fell silent, the heaviness of the air falling away. It happened so fast that Orm feared it was merely a hiccup and that it would soon start back up again.

 

Orm took several moments to regain his bearings. He rubbed his head, wincing as he recovered from the awful, invasive pain. Retrieving his knife, he held it close to his body as he crawled over to David. The sound may have ceased, but it had made him violently nauseous and dizzy, and Orm knew if he were to stand right away he would simply collapse back down. A nuisance of being at gravity’s whim.

 

David was laying on his side, still suffering from the assault. Orm watched him struggle to sit up, blood running from his nose and mouth in thin lines. He felt his stomach tighten and was surprised to find himself concerned. He quickly acted to rationalize it though. David was his temporary ally, and despite himself, he’d grown to respect the man for his tenacity and cunning. Having been cast out from Atlantis, the surface-dweller had become the only bearable presence of his new life. To lose him and his resources after such a discovery would be a terrible waste.

 

“Manta...” Orm started.

 

David groaned, opening his eyes. The blood vessels within them had burst, blood filling the sclera. He glanced at Orm, and the Atlantean breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the burst blood vessels had caused the man no actual harm, as unsightly as they appeared.

 

David tried to make words, lips moving as he attempted to sit up. He quickly failed, and slid back down, coughing and resting his head against the cool stone.

 

“Lay still.” Orm commanded.

 

Despite his condition, David somehow found the strength to furrow his brows at Orm for daring to order him around. Orm could only snort softly and hazard a weak grin.

 

A new wave of sound caused Orm’s blood to run cold, worrying they were in for another prolonged attack. This wave was different though. It coalesced from an overwhelming roar of a thousand voices to one single tone.

 

**_Dirt-Walker dare upon these hallowed stones,_ **

**_Anathema to our ascendancy,_ **

**_E’er cursed to walk the dismal ground below._ **

 

The voice came from every corner of the room, bombarding Orm with its presence, forcing him to cower despite his intentions otherwise. He glanced at David, who was laying still, but with his eyes wide open, listening.

 

Orm swallowed, glancing about the room, then simply returned, “He is my ally! I am of Atlantean blood, I am like you!”

 

It was a risk to guess, but Orm could feel for certain that this was the Kingdom of the Lost – or at least a piece of it. The voice made a strange sound, almost like a hum or a grunt, before continuing.

 

_**A lesser son of common blood and tide,** _

_**The seas beneath us, our eyes cast skyward.** _

 

“You’re not Atlantean?”

 

**_Once, but such time now long unremembered,_ **

**_Our exodus lost to the fires of time,_ **

**_A mere facet of our former glory,_ **

**_Common ancestry yet our only link._ **

**_Our blood hath altered to suit our new life._ **

 

“...You changed? You were like us but then you became something else?” Orm asked, voice growing calmer as his curiosity took hold. He kept himself beside David, having placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to keep him from trying to sit up again.

 

**_From the sea We ascended to the skies._ **

 

Orm’s thoughts turned to the moonstone bowl – to his blood allowing him entry, and the presence he had felt invading his person just moments before.

 

“...Do you know who I am?” He ventured, glancing at the intricate carvings as he spoke.

 

A long pause.

 

 

**_You are known to us, Orm of Atlanna._ **

 

 

 

“Tell me then – who are you?”

 

When the voice answered, it had grown substantially louder and stronger than before, causing Orm to wince and turn away.

 

**_Queen Nyredis, last to wear the starred Crown,_ **

**_Final Queen to sit upon the sky Throne,_ **

**_Final heir to the Kingdom of the Lost._ **

**_I lay before you, rent from my slumber,_ **

**_Torn from the domain of my ancestors._ **

**_Sequestered to guide those of rightful blood._ **

 

“This isn’t your Kingdom?” Orm asked, disappointment hinting in his voice, “Just your tomb?”

 

**_Ne’er would you have found the Seat of the Sky,_ **

**_A guiding hand must show you paths unseen._ **

**_Before our fall, our greatest treasure split,_ **

**_Concealed that only those of worth may try._ **

**_We have dreamt your dream, Son of Atlanna._ **

**_Our Birthright now laid bare for you to earn._ **

 

Orm frowned, removing his hand from David’s shoulder once the man seemed able to finally sit up on his own. He moved aside and stood, looking at the massive statue across the chamber.

 

“How can you know my name, how do you know me?”

 

**_You heart to us is know, as is your mind,_ **

**_We know the dark and light within your soul,_ **

**_The wax and wane of lights within your life._ **

**_Ourselves we know, now too, we know as you._ **

 

Orm shook his head, unable to fathom the claim. “How is this even possible…?”

 

**_Within your mind, your paltry world was seen,_ **

**_Your hidden lives lay meager ‘neath the waves._ **

**_Where once our Kingdom was as much the same,_ **

**_Our ascendance gave birth to greater feats._ **

**_Such simple ways of your people we see,_ **

**_Hidden from far lesser beings of land._ **

**_At greatest height our science conquered all,_ **

**_E’er heart and mind we wished to know be ours._ **

 

“Why did you leave Atlantis? Why did you abandon the other six Kingdoms?” Orm asked. It was a question that he had been aching to ask since his guess was confirmed.

 

**_Our achievements drew but moral ire,_ **

**_First of my great line, Queen Nyrdalia,_ **

**_Her practices found cruel by lesser men._ **

**_Beset by bleeding hearts in Atlantis,_ **

**_Her science was hindered by their virtue._ **

**_Yet by her science did she cut a path,_ **

**_The ways of bone, and blood and flesh made known._ **

 

**_By her hand did she free her fellow kin,_ **

**_To walk then from the sea to land then air._ **

**_For the good of her kingdom, such labor._ **

**_Yet within your heart we see the same steel._ **

**_From sea you rose to wage a bloody war,_ **

**_Mankind’s filth forever spread unhindered._ **

**_The war was lost, your failure known to us,_ **

**_Yet we deem you worthy of our birthright._ **

 

Orm glanced at David, the two of them sharing an intrigued, albeit suspicious look.

 

“Why?” Orm ventured, “I mean no disrespect to question you, Queen Nyredis – but there aren’t any others? There’s no one left in your Kingdom? No one still alive today?”

 

**_We live as stone and stand before you now,_ **

**_Once our science ceased the perils of time,_ **

**_Ne’er cursed to live and die as common men._ **

**_We walked forever young and full of life,_ **

**_Yet within our bodies a rot began,_ **

**_To slowly spread until what you see now._ **

**_Trapped within ourselves we live in torment,_ **

**_Our lives so cursed to watch the years pass by._ **

 

“Do you know what happened? What caused the rot?” Orm asked quietly.

 

**_Once we crafted flesh and bone to suit us,_ **

**_All type of beast and man did we perfect,_ **

**_To guard our homes, our lands, our secret world._ **

**_For all we made, twice as many did fail._ **

**_Within the years I have come to a thought._ **

**_Cruelty done to perfect our art returned,_ **

**_Great barbarity of our works evoked,_ **

**_Many suffered for our great ambitions,_ **

**_Now judgment laid upon my kind and I._ **

 

Nyredis went quiet, and Orm could almost hear a sigh whispering though the intricate crevices of the carved tomb.

 

Orm’s eyes briefly turned to the statues of the maidens that stood lined up on either wall. He narrowed his eyes, sharp vision enhancing slightly as he focused. A terrible chill ran through him as he realized the maidens were not mere statues. From what he was gathering from Nyredis, they were entirely alive within those calcified bodies. How many centuries had they been stuck in this room – unable to speak, unable to converse – doomed to stare at their counterparts? Was there any sanity left within them at all after such torment?

 

A greater horror still – the entire Kingdom had supposedly succumbed to this rot.  An entire civilization had suffered the slow cessation of control over their bodies, and now were lost somewhere in their hidden cities.  How many hundreds or thousands were trapped in place like the handmaidens?  Unable to move, unable to die?

 

He eventually tore his gaze away from the maidens, turning back to the enormous likeness of Nyredis herself.

 

“What is this birthright that I am to carry?”

 

The air in the room swelled, and sparks flew up along the shaft of the trident that Nyredis’ statue held in its hand. Light erupted from the stone itself, electricity crackling through the air, arcing from the trident to the nearby walls.

 

**_Behold Landsbane, master of air and light,_ **

**_Tempest’s fury lay within your close reach._ **

**_His crescent blades command the lightning’s rage,_ **

**_No inland reach be safe from his domain._ **

**_Landsbane lay broken, scattered by my will,_ **

**_That only they that I deem worthy search._ **

**_Wield Landsbane, make your fury reach the stars._ **

**_Strike fear into the heart of every man,_ **

**_No rock nor cave can hide them from his storm._ **

 

Orm shook his head. Despite all he’d seen thus far, it was too much to imagine something that powerful. A single Trident couldn’t control weather. It had taken a great force of hydromancers to cause the first wave he’d sent out against the surface-dwellers, and they had needed days to recover afterward.

 

“That’s – no – that’s impossible. An object with that kind of power cannot be real.” He countered.

 

Nyredis’ laughter bounced off the walls.

 

**_Such horrors you’ve lain eyes upon, we’ve seen,_ **

**_Through your mind we glean the Poseidon steel,_ **

**_Karathen wakes and yields to wielder's wish,_ **

**_The crown yet sits on brows we deem inept._ **

**_Yet Trench and beast alike rise for this King,_ **

**_With steel in hand he owns the surf and waves,_ **

**_Seeds of doubt within your mind are faulty._ **

**_Heed us, for as below so too, above._ **

 

That gave Orm pause. He finally ventured to look over at David. The surface-dweller had a subtle look of shock on his face at the entire affair. No doubt more of this was new to David than it was to Orm. Orm had seen the powers of Atlan’s trident firsthand – he had faced the jaws of the Karathen. David had seen hints of Atlantean strength, but he’d seen but a fraction of Arthur’s new power. There was so much more out there still, laying in wait beneath the waves.

 

He had no doubt David had seen and experienced many things. Still, nothing could prepare a man for being spoken to by the walls of a mausoleum. Orm had to give David some credit though, for all the information that Nyredis had been steeping Orm in, David had kept silent and listened. He had no doubt the surface-dweller was committing as much as he could to memory for later.

 

Orm turned back to Nyredis’ statue. His gaze fell upon the stone replica of Landsbane. Sparks still rippled up and down the shaft of the trident, small arcs of electricity running between the crescent blades and the spear that thrust up between them.

 

He could say no.

 

He could reject all that he had seen here – reject being chosen to carry a sacred birthright that claimed power over the skies. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted such a thing. Power over the skies, but Nyredis had mentioned nothing about water. From what Orm had deduced, the entire Kingdom of the Lost had abandoned the ocean for the clouds. No doubt their ability to do so another boon granted by the ‘science’ that the former Queen had mentioned.

 

What kind of Kingdom was this? Nyredis’ words left so much to interpretation, and Orm could only grasp at some of her meaning. Was he to believe that the first Queen of the Lost, Nyrdalia, had practiced such morally craven and unethical experiments that the other Kingdoms had demand she cease? Orm still had so many questions – so many things unasked – but he hesitated to press Nyredis any further. Her tone was flowery and obtuse, and Orm couldn’t even fathom what other kind of powers her will alone could enact on the mausoleum should he inadvertently anger her. The mechanisms of her will – from her consciousness remaining alive, to her ability to know his entire mind within seconds, terrified him. He couldn’t help but think perhaps the Kingdom of the Lost being struck down by their own science was a benefit to the world as a whole, rather than a loss.

 

Still.

 

What secrets would he learn? What history would he uncover? An entire culture – a lost branch of his cultural history found after so many years shrouded in mystery.

 

**_For one so learned, we find your thoughts so crude._ **

**_The past lay dead, it best left in its grave._ **

**_Heed the future, hear the call of Landsbane._ **

**_His cries demand a King to guide his wrath._ **

**_With our time ended, we can only beg,_ **

**_Landsbane in hand, keep man’s mad vice in check._ **

 

Orm’s blood ran cold, realizing that his internal musings were on full display for Nyredis to read.

 

**_Perhaps your thoughts ring true upon our hearts._ **

**_Our evils unseen until far too late._ **

**_Yet we plead with you, Orm of Atlanna._ **

**_The evils of man a far greater crime._ **

 

He swallowed, feeling a chill run up through his body. Nyredis had seen all there was of him, inside and out, and she was offering him a chance. A chance to once more bring wrath down upon the surface world. An opportunity to strike not from sea but air, and use powers that no hydromancer or half-brother could fight him over. Arthur had tamed the sea to his will, but he would never tame the skies.

 

**_Approach my likeness, Orm of Atlanna._ **

**_Within my hand the Lens of the Full Moon._ **

**_Its light shall guide you to the first remnant._ **

**_Fragment in hand, the Lens shall shine anew._ **

**_Walk its path where e’er it lay before you,_ **

**_Step true and Landsbane shall be born again._ **

 

He looked back at David. The man slowly turned to meet his gaze, and Orm found himself hoping that David would step in with a word of caution. He hoped secretly that the surface-dweller found this whole thing too unbelievable. That the statue of Nyredis, her calcified handmaidens, the entire affair was just one huge lie that was somehow being fed to them and David could see through it all with his insight.

 

Instead, David just faintly jerked his head forward, indicating for Orm to go toward the statue.

 

Orm swallowed, and turned back to face the pathway. He exhaled, and took a step forward.

 

As he passed the first pair of handmaidens, he could see faint movement from the corner of his eye. Crackling and grating quietly echoed in the room, and Orm knew that some part of them was moving. He kept his gaze facing ahead, and as he walked the narrow path, he could feel their eyes watching his every step.

 

Nearing the statue of Nyredis, Orm looked up at her outstretched arm that held the Lens. He’d have to climb up the statue to reach it, and just the thought of doing something so disrespectful stopped him from going on further. Standing before it, Orm mulled through various scenarios of how he could get the Lens down without degrading the likeness of the Queen by crawling over her effigy.

 

As he stared at the Lens, Orm began to wince, then was forced to look away. It had begun to grow brighter by the second, and soon it was so bright that it was completely blinding. Orm brought a hand up in front of his face, and felt a light brush of a hand against his other palm.

 

Flinching suddenly, he jumped back, opening his eyes in shock at the touch. When he looked out at the chamber, the light had vanished, as had the Lens from Nyredis’ hand. Now, the flat silver disc sat in Orm’s palm, emitting a soft, ambient glow. Staring down at the Lens, Orm brought his fingers up against its surface. It was smooth and milky, made of the same moonstone as the bowl. He held it close, afraid that even despite his grip on the Lens, somehow it would fall and shatter.

 

**_Walk its path where e’er it lay before you._ **

**_Steel mind and body, Orm of Atlanna._ **

**_We have seen your heart and all its shadows._ **

**_Although my kin and Kingdom stand as stone,_ **

**_Watchers remain unhindered by our rot._ **

**_They are the beasts we made and charged as guards,_ **

**_Eternal keepers of our hidden ways._ **

**_Though I wish you wield my birthright, Landsbane,_ **

**_The keepers guard his might from friend and foe._ **

**_No Handler remains to calm their fury,_ **

**_Their harrowing strength and wit match our own._ **

**_While some use might others will pierce your soul,_ **

**_For in our height did we make such keepers,_ **

**_That we revered them as our greatest works._ **

 

 

**_My dream comes to end, Orm of Atlanna._ **

**_Win or lose, your path laid bare before you._ **

**_For now my service ends and I can rest,_ **

**_I pray your will guide Landsbane deft and true._ **

 

Orm stepped back from the statue. As he backed away, heavy cracks split up the center of Nyredis’ body. Stone splintered and crumbled, the outstretched arms of the statue breaking off and falling away to shatter on the floor. Her face, carved exquisitely and carefully, crumbled apart and fell from her head as if it had been cleaved off in one motion. Chunk by chunk, the great statue fell apart, as if some invisible threads that had bound it together were finally cut. Stepping back to avoid the large falling stones, Orm quickly backed away to the entrance of the room.

 

David was halfway into the narrow corridor, having moved there the moment Nyredis’ statue began to crumble. He eyed the ceiling and walls, but as seconds passed and nothing else collapsed, Orm saw him calm.

 

A hiss traveled through the room, reaching Orm’s ears. He turned from David, looking back at the handmaidens. Five of them stood as they had before, completely still, facing forward. The sixth however, her body furthest from Nyredis’ crumbled statue, had managed to tilt her head toward Orm. Her vocal chords, hardened and rough, trembled at the first passage of air through them in centuries. The handmaiden’s voice wavered so strongly that Orm struggled to even find her words amid the highs and lows. Still, he focused, and was able to carefully discern what she said.

 

**_Her task complete, ours too is done, we beg now mercy from your hand._ **

**_Entrapped here for the countless years, we ask you free us from our cage._ **

 

Orm frowned, keeping his back to the wall, near where David stood.

 

He found himself hesitating. Orm knew it was an act of pure, utter benevolence to end their suffering. He had been willing to drown countless surface-dwellers for the sake of Atlantis. Why did he suddenly find himself unable to raise a knife against six women begging for death? He had killed countless Brine and Trench during his time below the waves. How was this so different? Death was death.

 

David stepped forward, and Orm wondered if the man had sensed his hesitation.

 

Helmet fixed back on, David glanced back to him as the eyes charged up to fire.

 

With a faint sigh, Orm gave a single nod.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note-
> 
> -The trident Landsbane is just the trident Orm uses in the comics, which has some lightning powers and stuff. So far I haven't been able to find a formal name for it other than 'Orm's Trident' but, even if I'm wrong this is movie-verse AU anyway so everything's made up at this point anyway
> 
> As always a million thank yous to you guys for reading, responses and just being awesome.
> 
> I know this is like taking forever but I promise, there is going to be Orm/Manta in this! It's getting there! Eventually! Gonna happen! Promise!


	9. Chapter 9

After they boarded the sub, David had tossed the Eel heads to Shin. The man had been busy since. In a rare display of charity, David had let Shin use his work table to dissect and photograph one of the heads. The scientist was head over heels, ecstatic at being given such a specimen. Orm wasn’t sure if it was truly generosity on David’s part, or if the man just didn’t want Shin hovering nearby for the next leg of their trip.

 

By all accounts, this was Orm’s opportunity to leave. He’d given Shin the remnants of the vessel, David had seen the Lost Kingdom’s secret chamber and heard the voice of Nyredis, what more could they ask from him? Orm didn’t know.

 

He also didn’t know where to go from here.

 

If he was going to find the fragments of Landsbane, he would need help. Orm was prideful and he knew his own strength, but he would also be a fool to turn a blind eye to his weaknesses. The power of the sacred trident was being offered to him willingly, and he was determined to obtain it. Arthur could have the crown; Orm would still see the surface-dwellers brought to their knees for their crimes against the oceans.

 

Orm had moved to sit in the submarine’s cockpit while Shin photographed and recorded his observations of the Eel. The creature let off an atrocious odor once it was out of the water, and Orm couldn’t bear the stench. Shin, oddly enough, didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Perhaps he was too overwhelmed with his findings to even give thought to the rank odor.

 

David was leaning forward in the seat, steering the craft with a pair of curved handles that extended out of the dashboard. He had his eyes on the radar screen, watching for even the smallest ping as his ship moved through the depths.

 

The two men had sat in silence for nearly three hours. Orm had fallen asleep during that time, and David had occasionally adjusted their heading or stood up to stretch. Finally, Orm shifted and yawned, uncomfortable from his awkward sleeping position.

 

“Where are we going?” He asked quietly.

 

David didn’t glance up, eyes locked on a topographic display of the ocean floor below. The display came from the high-tech dashboard of the sub. David’s face was lit up in blue and purple as the lights moved across his face.

 

“Back to Shin’s place. He’s got a house up off the California coast.” David paused, shutting the map off and leaning back in his seat. “I woke up there five days after Sicily, surrounded by his...weird ass red string conspiracy theory hoarder shit.”

 

“…... _What_?”

 

“You’ll understand when we get there. He’s been after Atlantis his entire life. It’s all he talks about.” David glanced to Orm, “I know I could find Aquaman on my own if I tried hard enough. But it would make life much easier if Shin could point me in the right direction, seeing as how you won’t.”

 

Orm sneered at him. “You forget yourself, surface-dweller. Atlantis will never be found by prying eyes, especially ones such as his.” He jerked his head back toward the door of the cockpit. “You can find Aquaman through other means. He adores the surface-dwellers, you need only cause a mild ruckus and he’ll come swimming. Why waste your time with such a useless appendage? Associating with him further will only hinder you in the long run.”

 

David made a quiet grumbling sound that Orm could only take as acknowledgment that he was right. Still, Orm knew he had to push further. David had to decide that an alliance with the former King would be beneficial to his end goal of regicide. He needed expertise and cunning above the waves to help him get to the fragments of Landsbane, and David was the only option.

 

“Join me to find the trident.” Orm continued. “The Lost Kingdom will have far greater weapons and technology than even I could have provided before. The Atlantean steel will be spread through their cities, if not something even stronger. The technology we saw in that mausoleum far surpasses anything that my people have achieved beneath the waves.”

 

“And?” David snapped back, “What makes you think I can figure out how to use any of that? You think it just took a couple of tries to interface non-binary Atlantean technology with a human computer system?”

 

“I don’t know binary is, nor do I care.” Orm responded, annoyed.

 

“Case and point. The technology we saw in that cave was voices from rocks and star charts in ceilings. What the hell am I supposed to plug that into?”

 

“That was just a single tomb. The moonstone that cut my hand, what if there’s more of that up there? Imagine if you could place that at the end of your harpoon instead of a bit of steel. You’re wasting your time with this madman. Do you really think you need his help? A simple submarine heist drew his attention last time, that didn’t require a ‘scientist’. You heard what Nyredis said about the horrors that lay within the deep. Arthur will bring all of those and more against you should you incur his anger. Passing by the Lost Kingdom is passing by the best chance you have at finding something to even the odds and achieve your mission of vengeance. Would you turn your back on such an opportunity? I did not take you for a fool, Black Manta, but if you ignore this chance...”

 

Orm didn’t bother to finish, looking at David expectantly. He knew his words had struck true, the other man’s expression growing conflicted. After a few moments his expression calmed, and he seemed to relax, looking back at Orm with faint amusement.

 

“Blowing all that smoke up my ass because you don’t know how to get around outside of water?”

 

Orm stammered for a moment then quickly tried to recover.

 

“You’re the only surface-dweller I would put my trust in during battle.”

 

“I’m the only other surface-dweller you know that can battle, at all. Period.”

 

“Fine.” Orm snapped, turning back around to stare out the crimson glass of the cockpit. “I will do this myself.”

 

“I never said I wouldn’t do it.” David remarked coolly. “You’re too impatient. You don’t even know where you’re going yet. We’ll go back to Shin’s first. It’ll give us a minute to breathe before we start the next leg. You can figure out how to use that lens thing while we’re there.”

 

Orm crossed his arms, relief mixed with annoyance. He could recognize his own flaws, but he’d be damned

 

“It’s going to be a few more hours until we reach the coast. I’m going to take a nap. You can sleep here if you want, or go in the back. I don’t care.” David said quietly, leaning forward and flipping several switches on the dashboard. A green light came on the main screen, but Orm couldn’t read what it said. Whatever it was, it allowed David to release the steerage controls and lean back in his seat while the submarine continued on its course.

 

With the ship out of his control, David relaxed and closed his eyes.

 

Orm shifted uncomfortably. Sleeping outside of the water was torturous. He longed to just find a nice spot in a reef or beneath an outcropping and fall asleep to the gentle movement of the current. There was no such thing on the dry land, only utter stillness and noise. He’d had enough sleep already, and settled in to watch the water beyond the glass. His eyes followed a school of fish that swam ahead of the vessel, and he stared at the thick red cockpit glass in resentment.

 

* * *

 

Shin and his specimens were given the benefit of being brought up to the edge of the docks. The submarine breached the water’s surface in the dead of night, hatch opening to allow him out. David hauled the Eel specimens up first, tossing Shin’s small bits of luggage on there afterward. Once the Doctor was on the rickety docks and off the sub, they quickly submerged once more.

 

“You’re not afraid of it being found?” Orm asked as David parked the submarine at the bottom of the harbor. He’d carefully navigated the vessel to sit beneath a rocky outcropping, hiding it from being seen down through the water from a boat.

 

“Trust me, they shouldn’t be able to find it.” David responded, working at the dashboard of the sub as Orm watched. “We got up close to that Russian sub with no problems, and they aren’t exactly slouches. Besides, we won’t be here for too long. A day or two at the most. I need to get in contact with a supplier and coordinate a drop off point, take inventory, do repairs...”

 

“Supplier?”

 

“Food, ammunition, raw materials for repair. Can’t exactly pick it up at the store. We’ll meet them in open waters once we leave Shin’s.”

 

Orm gave a small nod. The logistics and details of managing any kind of operation weren’t lost to him. He considered briefly offering to help, but decided he was above such things. It was David’s submarine, only he needed it to survive and travel in the water, Orm didn’t. It was his burden to deal with.

 

David put on his suit, attaching the hoses and air lines carefully, then moved to an airlock in the aft of the ship. Orm had seen the hatch once before, but wasn’t aware of its purpose. It took David a few moments of typing on a keypad to unlock the enormous door. The hatch door was so thick and heavy that he struggled for nearly a full minute to open it.

 

“Feel free to lend a hand, Highness.” David hissed, helmet turning slightly to Orm, who had been watching him nearby.

 

“I think you’ve managed just fine.”

 

David made an annoyed sound inside of his helmet, entering the room. Inside was a series of valves and switchboards along the wall, and a circular door on the floor. It was held shut by a series of curved plates. He found himself staring at the aperture in the floor, memories flooding back of his sacrifice to the Karathen. The floor beneath him then had opened up just the same, allowing the sarcophagus to drag him down into the depths below. He grew lost in these thoughts, mind wandering and reliving those events. His skin felt hot, stomach turning and twisting into knots.

 

“Orm.”

 

“... _Orm_.”

 

_**“ORM!”** _

 

He blinked, snapping back to reality. Orm glanced around, then looked at David, staring back at the large red eyes.

 

“Everything working in there?” David asked, sounding annoyed.

 

Orm glared at him, but shook his head slightly, waving the matter off. David snorted and slapped a large button next a panel full of switches and dials. The panels in the floor spread open, revealing the water below. David stepped in first, disappearing into the dark blue abyss, and Orm was quick to follow.

 

Although he wasn’t terribly eager to reach dry land, Orm was also tired of having to swim slowly so David could keep up. As the two ascended up the slow incline of the coast, he reached out, grabbing David’s wrist.

 

“You’re too slow.” He said, and propelled himself through the water, dragging David alongside him. He briefly felt the man tug at his arm, but once the initial surprise wore off, David allowed himself to be pulled along, steadying out beside Orm.

 

They reached the dock in seconds, Orm leaping out of the water, releasing David’s wrist in mid-air. As he descended, the thought suddenly struck him that humans didn’t have the durability that Atlanteans did, and that he may have just sent David on a disastrous fall down onto the docks. The sound of David’s jets activating alleviated the fear, and Orm landed with ease, turning his head to spit out water.

 

David landed behind him with a thunk, the weight of his suit causing the old dock to sway. The eyes of his helmet had been turned to a dim, low maroon. Away from any city lights, in the dead of night at the edge of the land, both of them were nearly impossible to spot in the darkness.

 

“Warn me next time.” David hissed as he passed Orm.

 

Orm smirked, following behind him. He could see Shin’s “house” in the distance, eyes adjusting in the pitch black night. His smirk soon turned to a grimace, and he moved to walk alongside David.

 

“That is where we’re staying?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Orm scoffed, glancing at the pathetic shack that sat on the land’s edge. It rested right at the end of the patchy grass, where the sand began to slope down to the sea. A boat was moored at the docks. It was a sailboat that was chipping paint and growing algae and barnacles all along its hull, left to rot without proper maintenance or care.

 

“Is that his boat?” Orm asked.

 

“No, it belonged to the man who lived here before. The good Doctor doesn’t actually know how to sail.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

As they left the dock and stepped onto the sand, an odor struck Orm’s nose. He stopped, frowning, sniffing the air.

 

“What is that? I smell something.”

 

“Right...” David turned around, “Normally the place we are right now is pretty expensive to live in. This particular area is downwind of some factories. It’s going to smell pretty bad all the time. After a while you’ll forget about it.”

 

“Fantastic. I’m subject to the stench of mankind’s factories, Shin’s constant desire to question me, and his obsession with exploiting my homeland. I don’t see how this could possibly get any worse.”

 

“Don’t jinx yourself, Highness. You’re only going to be here for two days. Can’t the former King of Atlantis toughen up a _tiny bit_ for the rest of us? You’ve only been complaining the entire time I’ve known you.”

 

Orm gave David a cross look and sighed, rolling his eyes and following the man. Fine. He would stay in this pathetic house, along this stinking, polluted coast, for two more days. And he was determined to hate it for the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being a kind of uneventful chapter, also I am kind of operating under the assumption that Orm does not understand written English. I know there was that scene comparing stats during the Ring of Fire that was meant for laughs, but I think that was purely for the sake of the audience (us).
> 
> I honestly have no clue if there are factories along the California coast but I wanted to give them a beach and a reason for there to be no people around


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this took way longer than I meant it to. Basically I wrote this chapter twice and trust me, this version is better than the first one.

 

 

Orm gave a bored grunt after David nudged him with his elbow. He blinked, finally drawing his eyes away from the catastrophe that was Dr.Shin’s _home_.

 

“You’ve been staring for two minutes.” David whispered.

 

Shin was deeper into his home, unloading his luggage and placing the specimens in containers. The walls were covered in pictures and red string, just as David had so accurately described. There were maps, and junk, and rolls of paper. Tiny sticky notes were slapped on across every surface, including desks and drawers. To Orm’s right there was a dingy, which was on a support pallet. To his left was a desk full of equipment, including oxygen tanks and a large radio.

 

On a raised floor was a huge array of specimen jars, mounted precariously on tall racks. Orm could see fresh wood hammered over a large hole in the ceiling, and several broken jars sitting near the stairway. One thing that Orm noticed was boating equipment everywhere.

 

“I thought you said Shin couldn’t sail.”

 

David rolled his eyes. “He can’t sail. _Good_.”

 

“What is your definition of ‘good’?” Orm asked, craning his neck back to see papers and clippings posted up as high as the top of the wall, just short of the ceiling.

 

“As good as me.”

 

Orm glanced at David. “Can anyone meet those standards?”

 

David shot him a quick grin. “I’ll let you know when I meet ‘em.”

 

Orm couldn’t hide the grin that mirrored across his face in return. David turned and walked forward into the house, which was more so a junk den divided into sections with a roof over top. A white tilted bed that Orm had never seen before was in a corner, near a large antique vase covered in rust. Plastic tubes and bandages were in a pile, having yet to be disposed. Old patches of blood stained the otherwise pristine white covers, having grown dark brown over time.

 

David moved to the bed, beginning to remove his armor. He tugged off his gauntlets, then the large harness and back piece. With just his leg armor remaining, David tugged the wet suit from his chest, letting it hang down from around his waist.

 

Orm found himself staring. David began to turn and Orm quickly looked away, wandering further into ramshackle house. Clippings, artifacts, junk and electronics littered the space, and Orm felt his skin crawl at so much clutter and mess surrounding him. He loathed every inch of what he saw. It disgusted him that Shin had obviously committed his entire life’s purpose to finding and exposing his homeland.

 

The Doctor himself was unpacking in a smaller room through a doorway with nothing but rusty hinges left hanging off the side. Orm could see a small bed within and several large bookcases, each one stuffed full of texts and papers, as disorganized and disorderly as the rest of the home.

 

Shin seemed to feel the eyes on him, and he turned to find Orm watching him. He offered a weak smile, but Orm knew it was forced. During the time they spent together on David’s sub, Orm had seen the Doctor’s attitude change from curious to afraid. The man feared him, as he rightfully should. He needed to fear Orm, and fear whatever dark retribution he would dare dream that the angered Atlantean would enact upon him should he misstep.

 

“How uh...how are you?” Shin asked quietly.

 

“Is the water here safe to drink?” Orm asked, glancing at a hanging curtain with a large white basin half obscured behind it.

 

“The water from the pipes is okay. I wouldn’t go out into the seawater for longer than you need to be.” Shin glanced back at the curtain, then looked to Orm. “Bathroom’s behind the curtain, it’s got a toilet. Do you uh..know how to-”

 

“Yes.” Orm snapped, glaring at him. He’d learned the crude simplicity of the human waste disposal system on board David’s vessel. At least the one in Shin’s home wasn’t so small he could barely fit his shoulders through.

 

“What is that?” He asked, pointing at the white basin.

 

“Oh! That’s a tub, to wash off in. You fill it with water and you know...scrub and clean..?”

 

Orm had seen David use his submarine’s ‘shower’ (yet another tiny stall in the corner) and knew how it worked, but he decided to divulge himself regardless.

 

“In Atlantis, our bodies are cleaned by fish.” He said proudly. _They weren’t_. “We have grounds devoted to cleansing schools that quickly and efficiently do their work so we may go about our business.” _They did not_. “Those wishing for a deeper clean may visit anemone beds and have every inch of their bodies scrubbed, but it is a slow process and can be quite painful to those who haven’t developed a tolerance.”

 

Orm watched Shin’s wide eyed expression, the Doctor desperately searching for a notebook and pen to write down what Orm had just told him.

 

“I will use your crude cleaning bowl since it is all you have.” Orm announced, doing his best to keep a straight face as he straightened his back and gave a regal walk to the old, battered tub. Now he was tempted to feed the Doctor as much misinformation and embarrassing lies as he could, just for the fun of it.

 

It didn’t take Orm long to figure out how the tub worked. As it filled with frigid cold water, he pulled the curtain shut and began to remove the fishskin suit. While the material tailored itself to fit his body, he still felt some small relief once it was off. He felt even better when he stepped into the tub and felt the familiar cool, refreshing touch of cold water against his skin. The frigid water was nothing to his Atlantean physiology, more of a balm than anything against the unfamiliar, unwanted dryness of the air.

 

With his feet beneath the faucet as it poured water in, Orm slid down into the shallow water and took in a deep long breath. Water filled and expanded his lungs, and he savored the familiarity of it before forcing himself to surface and breathe air once more.

 

Finally shutting off the water once the tub was slightly overflowing, Orm curled up in the frigid water and rested his head against the porcelain. His nose and mouth were submerged, and he allowed himself shallow breaths of water. He could feel each breath giving him less and less oxygen, and his body was yearning to return to the air as the tub water was depleted of anything useful.

 

Sighing, he brought his nose out of the water and yielded to his body’s demands. Despite this, he was finally at ease for the first time since the entire ordeal had began. He was away from imminent danger, not confined to a submarine, and not being attacked by genetically altered Eels. All in all, laying naked in a disgraced Doctor’s tub, with the stink of a nearby factory wafting through the windows was not such a terrible place to be. He hated to admit it, but, it wasn’t the Trench, and it wasn’t the jaws of the Karathen. He knew if he were to keep surviving he would have to be more grateful for these small gifts.

 

Orm closed his eyes, taking in a long, unsatisfying breath of air, and allowed himself to doze off.

 

* * *

 

Faint knocking finally drew Orm out of his nap. Groggily, he glanced upward at the window above the tub, and saw the first rays of light passing through the glass. How long had he been asleep?

 

Wincing, he shifted in the water, which had grown warm, much to his distaste, and glanced over at the curtain. He saw Shin’s hand knock against the door frame lightly once more and he gave an annoyed grunt in response.

 

“King Orm, sir,” Shin stammered, “I uh – just – I really have to use the bathroom and you’ve been in there for six hours. I really hate to bother you, your excellency, but I really need to go...”

 

Sighing as loud as he could, Orm slowly pushed himself to stand in the tub. Kicking aside the small rubber stopper, he took his time pulling the fishskin back on, cinching the belt around his hips and ensuring the tears and rips had self-repaired before finally pushing the curtain aside. He didn’t say a word to Shin, walking past him without giving the Doctor a second glance.

 

He found David in the next room, seated on a frayed, torn couch. Several cell phones of varying models and sizes were strewn beside him, and he was flipping through a thick notebook.

 

Orm approached him, leaning against the arm of the couch and peering down at the notebook. Rows upon rows of neat writing filled each page. Some pages had pictures of men or women taped to them, others had pictures of logos, ports, and islands.

 

“What is this?” Orm asked, bending forward slightly to examine an old photograph of a woman with sun drenched skin. She was wearing sunglasses, and her smile caused wrinkles to split down her face.

 

“Contacts and liaisons for securing goods. I’ve already made the calls to get the ship resupplied with food and water. Once we get everything packed, we’ll head off to wherever that Lens tells you to go.”

 

Orm grunted, reaching down into his suit. He felt the solid disc of moonstone in a hidden pocket at his hip. Removing it, Orm examined it in the dim light to check for any damage it may have sustained. It appeared as flawless and iridescent as ever, colors rippling along its surface.

 

Orm stowed it back in the hidden pocket, returning to David’s long list.

 

“Don’t you humans have computers to do all this?” He asked, musing at the utter laboriousness of having to keep such detailed hand written files.

 

“I have computers for specific purposes. Keeping records of my associates isn’t one of them.”

 

Orm couldn’t tell if he was being smart or paranoid, but in David’s line of work, the smartest route was probably _was_ to be paranoid.

 

“I wanted to ask you something.” Orm said, walking around and sitting down at the other end of the couch.

 

David shut the notebook, leaning back against the couch and looking at him.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I need a weapon.”

 

David looked at him strangely. “You mean like a gun?”

 

Orm rolled his eyes and he could see David’s annoyance at his attitude. He would just have to deal with it. “No, I do not want a gun. You forged that suit, yes? The helmet and other components to suit your body?”

 

“I did.” David said, a hint of pride in his voice.

 

“You know how to work with metal?”

 

“Nobody else fixes my ship but me.”

 

“I need a trident.”

 

David no doubt had been thinking of a snappy, swaggering response to whatever Orm was about to say. Whatever it was completely failed to come out, as all David was capable of was staring at Orm with his mouth slightly open.

 

“...I’m sorry you need a _what_?” He finally managed.

 

Orm scoffed. “A trident. Do you know what that is?”

 

“Yeah, I know what a Trident is.  How were Atlantean tridents made?”

 

“They were cast into molds.”

 

David sighed. “Easier than I thought but still...you sure you don’t just want a gun?”

 

Orm’s sneer must have done its job, because David seemed to get the picture fairly quickly.

 

“Fine, fine.” He acquiesced, “You realize this is going to take me a week? It’s going to delay you getting the first piece of your mystical sky Trident.”

 

“I’m aware.”

 

“You really want to spend the whole week with me in a forge somewhere? Because I’m going to have to go to one to do all this. You’re going to be surrounded by a bunch of ‘surface-dwellers’.”

 

Orm grimaced at the thought – but it would be better than being crammed up in this junk heap instead. If David was actually true to his word and could forge him a trident, he would tolerate it.

 

“I will put up with what I must. This has been bothering me since the Eels. The knife I have is an excellent weapon, but if we are to face these ‘Keepers’, which I am going to assume are far worse opponents than the Eels, I will need something more formidable. It must be forged with Atlantean steel. Simple metals that you surface-dwellers use are insufficient.”

 

David positioned himself to get more comfortable, crossing one leg up so his ankle rested on his knee.

 

“So, you’re asking me to take the time and effort to not only forge you a trident, but also to use some of the Atlantean steel that _I_ salvaged from the vessel that _I_ found. Since, if you remember, _you_ weren’t able to find it on your own.”

 

“I would have found it eventually.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

Orm scoffed, insulted. “It’s a simple truth.”

 

“Sure.” David mumbled, “I think it’s fair that if I’m throwing all this effort into making you something, then I deserve something back. That sounds fair, right?”

 

“State your request.”

 

“Spar with me, using the trident we make. I need to know how to fight something like that. Aquaman uses a trident, right?  I need to know how to counter one.”

 

Orm took in a long breath, nodding as he recalled the unpleasant memory of his father’s trident shattering from Arthur’s final blow.

 

“He now possesses Atlan’s trident. It’s a sacred weapon, only a true King can wield it.” Orm’s tone dropped and he seethed, turning away as the rage and contempt boiled back up inside of him. “It’s far stronger than any other weapon, even ones made of Atlantean steel.”

 

He turned back to David, who, for his part, looked unimpressed. “You need to start taking seriously what I’m saying. Atlan’s trident is a weapon of legends. I have seen its power firsthand. You will stand no chance going up against it.”

 

“Just because he has a fancy toy doesn’t mean I can’t find a weakness.” David responded, voice thick with energy and anger, “Just having all that power is a weakness on its own. He probably thinks he’s untouchable, or that I’m not a threat. I’ll prove him wrong.”

 

“He will kill you.” Orm urged, leaning forward. “...David, I respect you. I respect your abilities. I understand your need for vengeance but he is leagues beyond either of us now.”

 

“We’ve had this talk already, and you know my answer.”

 

Orm grunted and went quiet. It frustrated him that David was so resolute. It was a double edged sword. The man was utterly unstoppable, even if he was hurtling towards utter failure and doom. Still, he would have no argument on the matter, and Orm wouldn’t force it any further. He had to keep David as an ally, and that meant not pushing him into unnecessary arguments.

 

“...Very well.”

 

David dumped the notebook and various phones into a backpack at his feet.

 

“Closest guy I know that can do what we need is down in Tijuana. He has a foundry there and a team of guys that take easy money to keep their mouths shut. It’s going to take a group of people to do this, just – so you realize how much of a process this is. Eddie has the old kind of foundry where you put metal in the crucible yourself and pour it out. We’ll take the sub down the coast, park in the shallows and haul everything out at night.” David paused, glancing at Orm, running his eyes up and down his body.

 

“You’re going to need real-person clothes.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You’re not walking around outside like that.”

 

Orm glared at him in protest but David just stared back, snorting after a moment.

 

“You seriously think I was gonna let you walk around like that in public? You look like a Cirque Du Soleil performer who’s been lost at sea for two months.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Forget it. We leave tomorrow. I’ll need to get into contact with our metal guy.” David stood and stretched, still half-dressed in a wet suit, torso exposed. Orm forced himself not to stare.

 

“I’m going out.” David announced as he trudged across the room.

 

“Out?” Orm echoed, frowning. He did not want to be alone with Shin. He didn’t think the Doctor would try anything, he just didn’t want to have to sit in a prolonged state of awkward silence.

 

“I’ve been eating rations for...two months? I want normal food.” David answered back. He reached the white bed with bandages that Orm had seen before and began to undress without warning. Orm turned around, eyes wide, and crossed his arms.

 

“...Well...fine.” He answered, mentally kicking himself afterward for how disappointed he’d sounded.

 

“Don’t worry I’ll pick you up some fish.”

 

Orm returned to the couch, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling rafters. David returned a few moments later, wearing what Orm could only assume passed as casual human wear. Long pants made of denim, slightly frayed at the knees, with boots and a shirt depicting a logo that Orm couldn’t read. A jacket was over the shirt, which David had left unzipped in the middle, but for some reason had small zippers along the forearm. Orm pondered if there was any logic to this design choice or if surface-dwellers were just passionate about unnecessary zippers.

 

“Shin I’m taking your car.” David called, snatching some keys from a nearby dresser.

 

“ _You are?!_ ” Shin shouted from the bathroom.

 

“Is everything you wear black?” Orm asked, having reclined back to lay across the entire couch.

 

David paused, looking at his attire, then at Orm.

 

“Do I look bad in it?”

 

“No! I just - I uh-”

 

David was already chuckling halfway out the door before Orm could get a word straight.

 

If Orm was less dignified he would’ve found a pillow to hide his face in. However, he maintained his dignity, and allowed the embarrassment to sink down into the pit of his stomach and feel it churning inside of him in utter stone faced silence, like any good former Atlantean King should.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Orm cursed himself for falling asleep in the tub. Now he was too awake to nap and force time to pass while he waited for David to return. It had been at least three hours, and the man still wasn’t back.

 

Shin had opened the Eel specimens and was now speaking into some small square device as he dissected them under a large lamp. Orm had listened in at first, but found Shin’s observations a bore and an even worse ambiance than sheer silence.

 

Laying across the couch, for the first time, Orm felt a terrible pain sinking into him. It was not physical pain, but an awful hollow feeling that ached through his chest. It was a strange mixture of fear and isolation, unlike anything he’d experienced before. He felt distressed, and it was not a distress that he could fix with a knife or strong words.

 

Orm turned onto his side so Shin wouldn’t happen to see his expression. He knew he must’ve been scowling, the muscles on his face tensing, brows growing heavy. The feeling spread through him and consumed him, and he felt his eyes begin to sting. Here in this disgusting shack, surrounded by unfamiliar walls with a surface-dweller that he loathed, Orm wanted nothing more than to kick the door down and dive back into the sea.

 

Rumbling disrupted his spiraling thoughts, and he quickly sat up. Orm recognized the sound of the car, and the Doctor had paused in his work to look over at the door. A few moments of silence passed, then footsteps, and finally the door opened and David stepped back in.

 

Orm felt relief wash over him at the sight. _Finally_.

 

David dropped several bags near Orm’s feet on the couch, then took out a large bundle wrapped in brown paper and handed it to him.

 

“No complaints.” David muttered, tossing Shin’s keys onto a nearby table.

 

Orm unwrapped the brown paper, staring down four thick cuts of raw Halibut. If he had been back in Atlantis, he would’ve sneered at the very thought of such a common fish and waved the food away. Here and now, he tore into it gratefully.

 

“Do you all have forks down in Atlantis?” Shin asked, bringing Orm’s attention away from his meal.

 

Orm paused as he bit down into the Halibut, glaring across the room at the man. He saw David poke his head in from the other room, glancing between Shin and Orm before vanishing again.

 

It took a few more seconds of silence between them for Shin to realize the perceived insult, and he let out a flood of apologies and _I’m-so-sorry’s_ and _That’s not what I meant at all please eat however you want to_. Orm could’ve stopped it with a word of forgiveness, but he just went back to eating, letting the Doctor drown in his own embarrassment.

 

The entire Halibut was consumed within the course of twenty minutes. Orm had no clue how much surface-dwellers ate, but the occasional impressed glance from David hinted to him that perhaps it wasn’t on par with an Atlantean appetite.

 

David approached him once he was done, pointing at the bags at his feet. Orm could see surface-dweller clothes inside, and bit back a remark he knew was just waiting to snap out of him. He couldn’t be so crass with David, and the man had a point. He couldn’t just walk around looking like an Atlantean, as much as he loathed the idea of having to wear the clothes and take on the appearance of people whom he truly and utterly despised.

 

“These should fit. If they’re too small for you, then they’ll fit me.” David said.

 

Orm lifted up a large hooded sweatshirt then paused, glancing at himself, then at David.

 

The man stared back at him for a second, then blinked upon the realization. “Simmer down Highness, wasn’t an insult.”

 

Orm snorted, rummaging through the clothes – all of which were black, navy blue or a combination of the two - until he found the garments he decided were worthy.

 

“It’s all exercise clothes, so it should be like...close to that shit you wear underwater. Like it stretches and stuff.” David explained, half of his attention on a clipping about Aquaman rumors on a nearby wall.

 

Orm gathered his approved pile and moved to a different room to change.

 

Much to his annoyance, the clothes were dreadfully comfortable. The pants stretched and didn’t restrict his movement, tapering at the leg to hug his calves comfortably. Each of the shirts that David had picked out for him had logos and letters he didn’t understand or recognize. Orm decided to put on the one that he guessed was the safest and wouldn’t prompt any attention. Lastly, there had been several hoodies. Orm chose the own with a cowl neck, feeling more comfortable with even just a fraction less of his face showing to this alien world.

 

Once he emerged, David glanced up and gave him a look over before nodding.

 

“We’ll get shoes down at Tijuana.” He offered Orm a thin, hardcover book. “In the meantime, on our way down, that’s your homework.”

 

Orm stared down at the book, which depicted two grotesquely cute children and a dog running in a field, a smiling sun overhead. A rainbow spread through the sky with a jumble of English letters that Orm couldn’t understand.

 

“What is this?” He asked, sneering at it.

 

“That’s you learning to read English and not just speak it.”

 

Orm grimaced, glaring down at the obscene cover. No doubt it was a book for infants or toddlers to become familiar with the most basic portions of the alphabet.

 

“You could just teach me yourself instead of forcing me to endure this joke.” Orm hissed back at him, dropping the book down onto the couch.

 

David retrieved the book, tossing it into a bag with several more just like it. “Because I’m not already bending over backwards to give you what you want?”

 

Orm frowned, feeling unsettled that David chose now of all times to question their arrangement. He glanced around the room, checking to where Shin was. Seeing the bathroom curtain drawn in the other room, Orm leaned forward and lowered his voice to a hush.

 

“I owe you a great debt, David – and I despise owing anything to anyone. What I cannot abide is my dignity being attacked. Do not forget that I was once King of Atlantis. I will not be made to read children’s books like a screeching toddler whilst you laugh behind my back.”

 

David let Orm finish before he sighed, the hints of an eye-roll starting.

 

“You’re reading too far into this. It’s simple. You need to learn how to read, those books will be the best starting point. If they had noble, dignified books with no pictures that taught basic reading skills, I would’ve picked those up instead, your Highness. Not every decision I make that you don’t like is an intentional attack on your dignity. The world doesn’t revolve around Ex-King Orm.” David paused, the edge of his mouth just slightly cracking up into a grin. “Despite his best efforts.”

 

Scowling, Orm sat on the opposite end of the couch and gave a sigh of begrudging acceptance.

 

“Fine.” He muttered angrily, “But they don’t leave the submarine.”

 

“Scout’s honor.”

 

Orm’s puzzled expression caused David to smile, but he quickly put the words under the large umbrella of surface-dweller phrases he wasn’t going to try and bother to understand.

 

Leaning forward again, Orm spoke quietly. “How soon can we leave?”

 

“Tomorrow.” David whispered back.

 

Orm frowned, sighing softly and settling further back into the couch. He looked around the home, still feeling the awful dread that had crept up on him earlier, but at least a familiar face was nearby.

 

“What’s the matter?” David asked.

 

Orm turned to see the other man watching him inquisitively. He grasped for an answer, but struggled to find one that was more dignified than ‘I’m very sad and I do not know why. Addendum: It is not directly related to losing the throne and being sacrificed to the Karathen, this is an unrelated sadness with an unknown source.’

 

Seconds passed and he failed to find anything more eloquent. Pressing through his discomfort at disclosing his feelings, Orm finally answered.

 

“I feel an unfamiliar dread and melancholy. I’m not entirely familiar with this feeling, I do not recognize the source...It is unrelated to the events which have lead me thus far. Nothing to do with the crown or other matters. I don’t understand it.”

 

David considered his words for a few moments before answering.

 

“Sounds like you’re homesick.”

 

“That’s ridiculous. Children get homesick, not grown men.”

 

“Trust me, grown men get homesick. First week at sea they’d be puffing their chest at being real tough shits, fifth week in they’re getting weepy about their hometown. It’s normal. Seen a lot of people go through it over the years, especially on long hauls.”

 

As Orm listened a thought popped into his mind.

 

“Where is your home?” He asked.

 

David seemed surprised by the question, and pursed his lips, shrugging and glancing aside.

 

“I mean, that sub is home now.”

 

“But before, when you were a child.”

 

He shrugged dismissively. “Dad was always going on jobs. Our house was the boat. There were safe houses, a few stops during down times, but I never stayed in one spot for long. Dad was busy so we never had time for it.” David paused, then looked over at Orm, expression hardening. “And we don’t have time for you feeling homesick either. Man up and get over it.”

 

Orm hadn’t expected any less from David. He had been genuinely surprised that David had even answered such a personal inquiry. He was right though, their task was ahead of them, and Orm couldn’t let this feeling distract him from his goal.

 

“But...” David whispered, leaning forward a little so Orm could hear him, “I think it’s about time we left the good Doctor to his own bullshit and got our asses out of here. A few hours head start won’t do us any harm.”

 

Trying to remain stoic, Orm simply nodded. “That would be preferable.”

 

“Gonna slip my suit on then we head out, get your clothes together. Be. Quiet. I don’t want him trying to stop us to ask shit.” David whispered, then stood, quietly stepping across the floor to his armor near the white bed.

 

Orm watched him go, then quietly began to gather the clothes as well as his Atlantean suit, neatly fitting them into one bag. Once gathered, he crept toward the rear door of the home, sliding his foot along the floor to listen for the beginnings of any groaning or squeaking wood. He was careful to turn his head as he passed David, who was pulling on his wet suit and trying to zip it up as quietly as possible.

 

It took David several minutes to fully armor up, during which time Shin would occasionally speak into his recorder in the other room, still busy taking apart his recently acquired specimen. By the time David had hooked all of his tubes and armor, Orm was ready by the door, full of jittery energy. They needed to get out of this festering den of trash now.

 

David held his helmet up, preparing to lower it down over his head. Before he did so, he cleared his throat and glanced at Orm, grinning.

 

“Be seeing you, Shin! I’ll call if I need you!” He shouted, then quickly lowered his helmet, locking it into place.

 

Orm could hear the Doctor sputter and stumble out of his chair, knocking it backwards from getting up too swiftly. He snickered and opened the door, stepping out and into the cool nighttime air. David was close behind him, footsteps pounding on the wooden floor with the added weight of the suit. He slammed the door shut behind them, pausing afterward when he heard Shin’s approached footsteps. The man was incessantly calling out to them to stop and wait and not leave just yet because he had so many more questions.

 

Orm was having none of it. He reached for the doorknob, Atlantean strength twisting and crumpling the metal beneath his hands until he heard the internal mechanisms snap within the door. Satisfied, he grinned and turned to catch up with David. The other man was already halfway to the water, and Orm couldn’t wait to be off of dry land.

 

* * *

 

“You did not warn me that these clothes would be twice as cumbersome when wet.” Orm muttered bitterly as he sat up against a single ventilation shaft. Barely any air was flowing through it, but it was better than just wading around in heavy, wet clothes.

 

“And yet somehow you’ll survive.” An apathetic response countered from the cockpit.

 

Orm felt the submarine begin to move, and the overhead lights changed from white to red, bathing everything in comfortable warm darkness.

 

The light of the surface world took some adjusting to. It wasn’t intolerable, any Atlantean could easily adjust within moments, but it was different. Nothing soothed Orm like the embrace of the ocean’s cool darkness. His eyes easily sucked in the dim light, and he relaxed back against the air vent.

 

David emerged from the cockpit, removing his helmet and setting it on the work table. He glanced over an open journal before looking in Orm’s direction.

 

“Plan is to set ourselves just a few miles from Eddie’s place, leave the sub someplace safe and come up, grab a car and head to the foundry. Eddie’s two faced. Don’t trust a single fucking word that comes out of his mouth. As far as either of us are concerned, this trident is just an authentic-looking forgery to sell on the black market. Shin isn’t the only one out there who thinks Atlantis is real, he’s just the only one they let on CNN.” He paused, clearing his throat and beginning to tug off a gauntlet.

 

“You _aren’t_ going to talk. Period.”

 

Orm scoffed. “Excuse me?”

 

“Yeah. You can’t be _you_ around these people, they’re gonna think something’s off and get suspicious. Your name is Alek, you’re a fine arts forger from Norway, and you don’t speak a damn bit of English or Spanish, alright?”

 

“Will it stop the other surface-dwellers from trying to speak to me?”

 

“Immediately.”

 

“Then this is acceptable.”

 

David continued to remove his armor as they spoke, until all that was left was his wet suit.

 

“I need you to draw the trident you want them to make. There’s a guy there that will carve the wax casting for the initial mold. He’ll need something to work off of.” David explained as he began to hang his armor components on a standing rack.

 

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” Orm mused as he watched him.

 

“A few times when work was really, really slow. Didn’t happen often, we were usually pretty busy. Now and then though a job wouldn’t pan out or we’d have to cancel. Still needed money, so, this was just something on the side to keep us afloat between the real stuff.” David responded absentmindedly as he polished the lenses on his helmet with a small cloth.

 

Once done, he trudged across the room and headed for his small bed in the aft of the ship. Orm frowned, huffing when he heard David’s wet suit slap the floor in a heap. Of course he got the bed.

 

_Of course he got the bed!_

 

Orm wanted to smack himself upside the head. He was still struggling to shake off the Kingly mindset he’d been raised with. He reminded himself how incredibly lucky he was that David had decided to agree to this at all. He felt ashamed that the minor annoyance had even popped up into his mind. Orm shook his head, settling against the wall.

 

Something soft and dry gently hit him in the face. Orm grunted, opening his eyes, and looked down at a single, sad looking pillow that had been chucked at him from across the room. A blanket was next, flung in a ball so it could reach proper blanket-velocity before colliding with his shoulder in the tiniest of bumps.

 

Looking up, Orm could see no trace of David. Snorting softly he rested down on his side and pulled the covers up over him. It was no anemone or comfortable clam bed, but it was good enough for where he was right now.

 

The homesick feeling crept in as he lay there in the dark. Orm felt like a child again, desperately wanting his mother. He wanted some familiar comfort back so badly that it caused a visceral, terrible pain within him. Trying to alleviate himself of the torment, Orm turned his thoughts elsewhere. He tried to focus on what the future held, what kind of wonders he would see when he and David reached the first piece of Landsbane.

 

David began to linger in his mind. He found himself wanting the man’s company more and more. He simply liked to be around him.

 

Suddenly, a terrible panic sprung up inside of him. Shock mixed with pain. He was making the same horrific mistake that his mother had made – he was debasing himself, his royal blood, his rich Atlantean heritage – for the sake of a surface-dweller.

 

He couldn’t.

 

He loved his mother, but he couldn’t repeat her mistake. If he was going to cast judgment upon her and the bastard son she bore, he had to meet those principals face to face as well.

 

Desperately he tried to bury that feeling – that first drop of want that he feared was going to be just the start of a raging storm of desire. Orm swallowed his pain and his affection, and buried it deep down within himself, praying that it would swiftly die in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait, I haven't lost interest whatsoever, life is just full of things. So many things


End file.
